


The Eyes that Bind

by TheBrightestNight



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (except Jonah he can choke), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Sitcom, Angst, Comedy, Crack, Dark Comedy, Don't copy to another site, Fix-It, Fluff, Found Family, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Sitcom, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24883339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrightestNight/pseuds/TheBrightestNight
Summary: The Magnus Archive gang accidentally yeets Jonah from Elias's body mid-beginning of S2. Chaos ensues.Alt. click-bait summary:Like normal TMA except every time an avatar attacks the Institute, it gets faster. Oh and it's a comedy.Atl. alt. click-bait summary:I've basically collapsed s2-s4 on top of each other, and instead of being tragic, it's funny now.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 334
Kudos: 411





	1. Definitely a Horse

**Author's Note:**

> So uhhh, based on [this](https://gonnahaveabigtalklater.tumblr.com/post/618557413190205440/give-me-an-au-where-the-gang-accidentally-purges) post by [@gonnahaveabigtalklater](https://gonnahaveabigtalklater.tumblr.com/). HUGE thank you for letting me use your idea!
> 
> I saw it. Had a mighty need. It grew into some crazy thing. And here we are.
> 
> If I'm missing any tags (which I probably am), they will be updated as the story goes. I'm still figuring those out, though, so if I miss anything, feel free to send an ask or DM me [@notesofarichlycolorednight](https://notesofarichlycolorednight.tumblr.com/ask) and let me know. I'll also do my best to add TW/CW for anything major (but what I deem major and what others do may be different) at the beginning of chapters.
> 
> Big, ginormous thank you to my wonderful, amazing friend [@justletmeremember](https://justletmeremember.tumblr.com/) for listening to all my crazy ideas, giving me more crazy ideas, and helping me brainstorm crazy ideas.
> 
> **MAJOR SPOILERS for the whole podcast, including S5.**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *John Mulaney voice* There’s a HORSE _loose_ in the **_ArChIvEs!_**

It was a usual day in the archives. Jon was holed up in his office, being paranoid. Tim…well, he wasn't slacking, necessarily. He'd get his work done. Just not right now. No, right now, he was meandering around the stacks and glaring at them as he went. Martin was making tea. And Sasha was angrily banging the side of the computer screen, annoyed that it was _still_ malfunctioning.

Upstairs, on the ground floor, Rosie was examining a mysterious yellow envelope that contained what she thought might be a book. The envelope was being held together with clear tape in various areas and had stamps from all over the world. While Rosie tried to find out who it was addressed to, she silently grumbled that this envelope was somehow more well-traveled than her. Seemed unfair.

Finally, through the mess, she made out the name of the addressee. Sort of. A lot of it had been lost to the stamps and smudges and layers of tape.

Regardless, she tucked the package underneath her arm carefully before putting up a sign to inform anyone that might come in that she'd be right back, and quickly made her way to the basement. She didn't stop or pause in her purposeful stride, as she made her way through the common workspace for the archival staff. When she arrived at the door to the head archivist's office, she gave three sharp raps and waited for the, "Come in." before opening the door and stepping inside, then closed the door behind her.

Jon was surprised to see her, since she rarely visited the archives. Not that people often visited the archives, in general.

Rosie gently took the package from underneath her arm and held it out, toward Jon, setting it on his desk as she said, "This came for—" she broke off and thought for a moment before continuing with, "…well, it's been addressed to the archives."

Jon looked up at her skeptically before his eyes strayed down to the package. "What does that mean? Who left it? What it is?"

Rosie waited until Jon looked back up at her to answer his first question, "I, unfortunately, couldn't make out who it was addressed to specifically, but I could make out the word, archives. I don't know who delivered it. I was taking a phone call, looked at my computer for a moment, and when I looked back it was just sitting there. I didn't even hear anyone approach or come in." She paused. "I think it's a book."

Jon took a moment before looking back up at Rosie and giving her a polite smile. "Thank you, Rosie."

Rosie nodded back before briskly exiting Jon's office and the archives.

Due to Jon's paranoia, and his tendency to over-think many things, he sat in his office for a while, thinking about what to do with it. He'd tried to see if he could make out who the specific addressee was but no such luck. After, he tried to determine if one of the archival staff had ordered something and had it sent to the archives for some reason. But that would require asking them and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that, ~~because paranoia~~ due to the state of the envelope. At the same time, if they found out he'd been hiding something from them, he was sure _that_ wouldn't go over well, either. Especially if this _was_ something one of them was waiting for. But why have it sent to the archives, of all places?

Jon mussed up his hair and let out a heavy sigh in frustration. He was only going in circles now. Either he opened it in the comfort of his office or he asked the others about it.

Straightening up, he pulled the package closer to him and went to grab a pair of scissors…and then changed his mind at the last second. Grumbling, Jon returned his scissors to the proper desk drawer before grabbing his forearm crutches, which were leaning in a corner of where a bookshelf met the wall behind his chair, and stood. When he'd gotten around his desk, he stopped and looked at the package on his desk.

He was still getting used to using crutches. (Two months _sounded_ like a long time, but it really wasn't.) Still getting used to a lot of things related to _why_ he was using crutches—such as how much feeling he'd lost in on the inside of his right leg from the knee down, the feeling he had left being mostly pain, his balance being completely throw off because of the loss of feeling. His left leg had also lost feeling, just not as much and that, thankfully, also meant he had less pain in his left leg, too. When he used his crutches, he mostly kept his right leg completely off the ground. It was just easier and helped him move faster.

Anyway, he was getting used to using crutches and still being relatively independent.

Jon tried to hold the package with his first two fingers and thumb, balancing the heel of his palm on the handle of his crutch and wrap his last two fingers around it. But the worms had also gotten to his arms and hands. Not nearly as bad as his leg, but enough for him to experience chronic pain. He probably could have done it had he had the grip strength, since he was traveling a short distance. Unfortunately, he didn't have the grip strength yet.

Leaning against his desk, he tucked the package under his arm and carefully made his way to the door. Checking his balance and his grip on the package, he opened his office door and walked out into the common work space, leaving his door ajar.

Everyone was at their computers, following up on leads. Or in Sasha's case, still struggling to get her computer to even work for her.

Jon cleared his throat to get their attention. They all turned to him. Making sure he had his balance, but staying close to the wall so he could lean on it if he began to lose his balance, he showed them the envelope.

"Did any of you order something and have it sent to the archives?" he asked. They all gave him blank looks. "Alright." He turned, tucked the package back under his arm and began to head back into his office but Tim stopped him.

"Hold on," he said. "You can't just ask us that and then not elaborate."

Jon silently cursed—exactly what he was afraid of. He turned to face the assistants again.

"Just a package addressed the archives," Jon said. "I can't read the name of who it is specifically addressed to." Jon turned again but was stopped by Tim again.

"What is it?"

Jon threw Tim a glare over his shoulder, who glared right back. "I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."

"Why don't we open it together, then," Tim suggested before Jon could even take a step toward his office. "You've made me curious. I'm sure my coworkers are curious, too." Tim looked at Sasha, then Martin, who nodded and sheepishly shrugged, respectfully. Tim looked back at Jon and gave him a shit-eating grin.

Jon tried not to roll his eyes as he turned to face them again. "Do any of you have a pair of scissors handy?"

Martin produced a pair of scissors and stood, holding them out as Jon approached his desk. He leaned up against one of the empty desks near Martin's, setting the package onto the table before leaning his crutches up against the table as well. He pulled the extra chair from the empty desk and took a seat before he took the scissors from Martin.

Jon cut open the top—or what he thought was the top—of the envelope as Tim and Sasha moved closer. He peeked inside as he set the scissors back down on the table.

"Looks to be a book," he muttered before carefully reaching inside. As soon as his hand made contact, the book leapt from his grasp and flew open on its own accord, ripping the envelope to shreds as it did so, and a pure black horse—an Ardennes Draft Horse, in fact—jumped out from the pages.

Tim, Martin, and Sasha stumbled back, away from the book and the horse. Jon stood on instinct but immediately lost his balance and, with a yelp, took a spill, knocking on his crutches over on the way down for good measure. He let out a frustrated sigh but quickly looked back where the horse was, since that was the more pressing issue at the current moment.

The horse whinnied and reared up on its hind legs. Jon blinked and the horse was gone. All that remained was the open book lying on the ground several feet away and the shredded pieces of the envelope.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"You saw that right?" Martin finally asked, bringing one of his hands to his forehead, eyes wide with something along the lines of panic. "It was a horse, right? A _huge_ , pure black _horse_. I wasn't imagining things?" No one answered, still too in shock. "I'm not crazy, am I?"

Season 1 Jon would've thought, _That's debatable_ , but after Jane Prentiss, anything was possible. Not to mention his own trauma-filled childhood experience with a certain book.

Tim was the one who finally answered in a small voice, "No. No that was definitely a horse."

"Where did it go?" Sasha asked. "I blinked and it was gone."

Jon finally found the wherewithal to stand up (and close his mouth): he grabbed his crutches and carefully got to his feet. The others were still too stunned to ask if he needed help. (Not that he would've told them, if he'd had. One part due to, yes, his paranoia, another part due to his stubbornness, and a third part, his desire to remain independent.) One he go this balance back, he readjusted his glasses and pulled at the front of his shirt to smooth the wrinkles.

"I think that book is a Leitner," he said

The three archival assistants looked at him.

"What." Tim said flatly as Martin said, "That would explain a lot."

"The horse seems to have come _from_ the book," Jon said, making his way over to it.

"You sure it's okay to touch again?" Martin asked, staying behind with Tim and Sasha.

Jon slowly and carefully (so as to not jostle his right leg too much) knelt down next to it, setting one crutch down on the ground and using the other as a brace. He scanned the pages. Nothing familiar—he didn't know the book right off the top of his head, anyway.

"I'm honestly not sure," Jon finally responded. "Can someone hand me a pen?"

Sasha quickly grabbed one from a nearby desk and handed it over to him. Jon nodded his thanks and turned back to the book, carefully pushing the book closed to show the title. " _Black Beauty_ ," Jon read. He turned to look at the others over his shoulder. "Could one of you—?"

Martin nodded. "On it." He sat back down at his computer and began typing. "Who's the author?"

Jon turned back to the book—nothing on the cover. He carefully opened it again with the pen. It didn't take long to find the author: "Anna Sewell." That set off a lightbulb in his head but he kept it to himself as Martin searched. Instead, he closed the book again with the pen and carefully stood back up (rationally, he knew this would get easier and go faster once he got used to using crutches, but emotionally he wished he was already at that point in time), going over to where Tim and Sasha hovered next to Martin. They were all reading the Wikipedia page about the book.

"It looks like the main plot of the story focuses on a horse named Black Beauty," Martin said as he scanned the plot summary.

"Explains why the horse was all black, then," Tim muttered.

"It's about the horrors of animal cruelty and abuse," Jon said. "I'd forgotten about it until now. Something I read when I was younger."

Tim snorted and Jon felt his face heat up.

"It was a popular book!" Jon tried to defend.

"Yeah, in the nineteenth century," Tim retorted.

"Well, what should we do with it?" Martin quickly asked. They all turned to look at the book again. "We can't touch it."

"Maybe we could wrap it in a piece of fabric," Sasha suggested. "Jon seemed fine handling it in the envelope."

"We should burn it," Jon said in a monotone.

"Burn a Leitner? Is that safe?" Martin asked.

Tim tutted. "As safe as anything else we've encountered."

"What about the horse?" Sasha asked.

Jon glanced back at the book. "Not sure there's anything to be done about it. We don't know where it went or what its agenda is. _Reading_ the book may prove to be fatal in one way or another."

"If we burn the book, will the horse disappear, then?" Martin asked.

"I'm unsure." Jon frowned, not liking this whole situation. And that was on top of the fact that Rosie had no idea who'd delivered it. "In any case, I'll take the book and burn it in the courtyard at the end of the day when there's less chance of being seen."

"Shouldn't we try to burn it sooner?" Tim asked. "Get rid of the horse before it wreaks too much havoc." Jon was doubtful, not wanting to get caught. Tim noticed and snorted. "Even if someone made a complaint or reported you, what is Elias going to do? _Fire_ you? Hell, I'd burn the book on Elias's office desk if I thought he'd fire me for it."

 _Fair point_ , Jon thought. Out loud he looked down at his watch (so he could keep holding both his crutches). "Half-one. Everyone should be in a food coma. I could burn it now, I suppose."

Martin blinked. "You know what a food coma is?"

Jon scoffed. "I know _some_ slang." To that he got three faces of amused skepticism. "I…I don't have time— I'm going to go burn the book." Without waiting for a response, he ~~stomped~~ brusquely walked past his coworkers, back to his office to grab the extra cardigan he carried around in his messenger bag, to wrap the book in, and the lighter with the web design on it.

It was quick and easy work to then wrap the book up and carry it out to the courtyard, with the book tucked under Jon's arm again. As much as he was hesitant to burn a book in broad daylight (and at his place of work, no less), it was _far more_ satisfying to burn a Leitner. Jon would never admit it, but he was looking forward to watching it go up in smoke.

So, of course, the universe (or what have you) wasn't going to let him have it.

He'd sat down on one of the benches, crutches leaning up against it and his left leg. He was just about unwrap the book when Martin burst through the door behind him, out of breath and looking frantic.

Jon instinctively looked up.

"We need you in here!" Martin gasped, gripping the door handle, eyes wide.

A sense of panic shot through Jon and he lowered the book, still wrapped in his cardigan. "What? What's going on?" he asked. He felt silly asking it but he still needed to ask, "I-is it the horse?"

Martin shook his head. "You'll never believe me if I told you. You have to come see for yourself."

Jon gestured to the book in front of him. "I was just about to—"

"I think it can wait just a little bit longer," Martin interrupted. Jon wanted to object but Martin's expression looked pretty on edge. With a small, quiet, frustrated grunt, Jon grabbed his crutches, tucked the book underneath his arm, and stood, following Martin back into the Institute.

Martin's stride was swift but Jon was able to keep pace with him. (He wasn't sure if it was because Martin had subconsciously slowed or the crutches actually made it easier for him. Could've easily been both.) They were headed back toward the archives. Jon nodded to Rosie as they passed her desk. Martin began to lead him down the stairs but Jon froze when he got close enough to see the body lying at the bottom of the stairs. (As a side-note: Stairs were the worst right now and Jon always silently cursed Elias the whole way down, or up, for not having an elevator in the Institute.)

"What's going on?" Jon asked.

Martin, who was half-way from Jon and the body, stopped and turned to look back at Jon.

"We're not sure," he said. "Tim just found him like this."

Tim was standing next to the body, looking down at it, but looked up when Martin said his name. Jon ventured closer, silently cursing Elias (and struggling to keep the book tucked under his arm; the cardigan helped, bulked it up so he didn't have to hold his arm so close to his body), then both he and Martin slowly made their way down the rest of the stairs, stopping on the step above where the body of their boss and head of the Institute, Elias Bouchard, laid prone and unconscious at the bottom of the staircase.

The three of them stared down at their boss in silent confusion.

"Is he still breathing?" Jon finally asked quietly, leaning up against the wall, to take pressure off his arms and gently rest his right leg on the ground (but making sure not to put any pressure on it). He also removed the book from underneath his arm, haphazardly dropping it on the step above him so he wouldn't have to hold it for now (but wouldn't forget it later, either).

"Yeah," Tim answered, in the same quiet voice.

"Think we should move him? Or phone for an ambulance?" Martin asked, matching the others' soft tones.

"That might be prudent," Jon said. "We don't know if he's broken anything or has a concussion. How long has he been here?"

"No long," Martin said. "Tim and I heard crashing noises. When we came to investigate, we found Elias here."

Jon's eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at them. "And Sasha?"

Tim shrugged. "She'd gone off to go look up something in the stacks."

Jon frowned but said nothing more of it. "I guess someone should phone—"

"Wait, he's…he's waking up," Tim whispered. They all exchanged glances before looking back down at their boss as he stirred. His eyes fluttered a few times before they finally opened. It took another few moments for his eyes to adjust and a moment longer for his eyes to focus on the three faces staring down at him.

What he said next shocked Tim, Martin, and Jon so much, all they could do was stare down at their boss in shocked confusion: " _Duuuuude._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DISCLAIMER:** Per the tumblr post I linked, there have been notes of others expanding on the idea with their own ideas. I purposefully DID NOT read any of them 1) so as to not accidentally steal their ideas, and 2) if they wanted to write their own fic, they were free to use their ideas. If there are similarities, they are purely coincidental.
> 
> This format, if you wanna call it that, will be different from what I usually write. I mean, read the tags and you'll see what I mean (maybe lol). So bear with me as I work out all the bugs.
> 
> Also, and this may or may not matter to you, but chapter length will vary. Also a symptom of trying this new format.
> 
> I have major story beats planned but other than that, I'm just going with the flow. I'm just not the type of writer who can plan out stories down to how many chapters it will contain. And I don't have the patience to write out the entire story before posting. No planning, no pre-written chapters, we die like men.
> 
> As of today, the date this was posted, I haven't fully caught up to the newest ep in S5, but have listened to a few in S5.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/621752819980058624/chapter-1-definitely-a-horse)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	2. 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise Leitner appears!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, uh, also I guess this goes without saying since it's an AU but like, idk, just in case? But I'll be moving things around in the canon timeline.

"I just had _the worst_ trip, yo," Elias said as he tried to sit up.

"M-maybe you shouldn't—" Jon stuttered, still confused as all hell but worried if Elias (was he still Elias? He certainly wasn't talking like Elias) _had_ injured his spine in some way, moving would only aggravate it or, worse, snap his spinal cord.

Elias dutifully laid back down and laughed. "Get it? Looks like I fell down the stairs. Bad trip?"

No one else laughed. They just continued to stare down at their boss. (Was he their boss, though? Technically speaking, yes, he was. But _was_ he?)

"Tough crowd, huh?" Elias asked in sympathy.

"…you don't remember falling down the stairs?" Martin asked.

Elias shook his head.

"He might have a concussion," Tim said. "We should phone that ambulance. Get him checked out."

"Wait," Jon said, staring intensely down at Elias. Tim and Martin looked at him in bewilderment.

"What do you mean 'wait'?" Martin asked. "He could be seriously injured!"

"This _can't_ be Elias," Jon said. He looked up at his coworkers. "We know Elias. _We know_ him. How he talks and acts." Jon gestured to the man still lying on the floor. "This _does not_ sound like Elias."

Elias inclined his head and furrowed his eyebrows, giving Jon a weird look. "My name is Elias."

"What?" Jon shook his head like maybe that'd help clear his racing thoughts away. It didn't.

"Elias Bouchard? That's my name." He looked around at the three of him, still staring down at him, baffled. "Hey, can I get up now? This floor isn't comfortable—" He tried to sit up again but was met with three simultaneous, resounding, _No_ 's. With a heavy sigh, he laid back down. "Hey, am I at the Magnus Institute?"

"…yes." Jon answered slowly. "Why?"

Elias chuckled but it wasn't a haha-funny chuckle, it was an uncomfortable chuckle. "Because I work here? That's the last thing I remember. I was working here and then…" Elias faltered, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before his face cleared and his eyes widened. One of his hands came up to his forehead. "Oh! Dude, I must've smoked a bad batch of weed or something."

Tim and Martin both opened their mouths to respond but Jon held up his hand and silenced them, not taking his eyes off Elias, his gaze intense. "What was our job title?"

Elias removed his hand from his forehead and looked up at Jon. "File clerk."

Jon paused for a long moment before, "What _year_ is it?"

Elias furrowed his eyebrows and frowned at the intensity behind Jon's words. "Nineteen-ninety-six."

Martin and Tim's jaws dropped. Jon didn't seem too surprised, more like something he'd been suspecting had just been confirmed. Though, not even he knew the specifics of that something. Not yet, anyway.

Elias continued, "Why? Is something wrong? You guys are starting to seriously freak me out. What's going on?"

Instead of answering, Jon slowly looked up and exchanged glances with Martin and Tim.

Tim held up his hands, palms out in a 'stop'-like gesture. "People with concussions _can_ be…taken back in time, for the lack of better words," he said. His tone, however, was not at all sure with his own explanation. It sounded wrong when he said it out loud.

It was quiet after that for a long time.

"Well, what should we do?" Martin finally asked. "E-even if…whatever is going on here is…going on, are we really going to risk moving him? He fell down the stairs!"

"Can I sit up now?" Elias asked.

"No!" They all snapped. Elias let out a frustrated groan and crossed his arms petulantly but stayed lying down.

Jon pursed his lips and thought as Tim said, "Okay, so…this isn't Elias. O-or Elias as we knew him. Then who was the _other_ Elias? The Elias _we_ knew?"

"One-one problem at a time," Jon said, rubbing his temple and squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. "We _should_ probably let him get checked out. But someone should accompany him to the hospital."

* * *

Martin phoned for the ambulance. Tim and Jon (who'd taken a seat on the steps) watched over Elias, who continued to ask if he could sit up. "Can I get up now?" was the new "Are we there yet?" They also conversed and decided that Tim would go with Elias to the hospital. Jon and Martin would stay behind and wait for Sasha to return so they could bring her into the loop.

Jon had picked the Leitner back up, but it was more subconscious than anything because it was mostly forgotten with this new dilemma. The horse problem would have to wait.

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics put Elias in a neck brace before loading him onto a stretcher. Tim followed the ambulance to the hospital in his car.

Back in the archives, Jon and Martin were sitting in the common workspace, unsure of what to do. It seemed a bit odd to go back to business as usual. Jon still held the book, almost gripping it to him, though he wasn't sure why. His crutches rested against the desk he sat next to.

"Should we go look for Sasha?" Martin asked, breaking the awkward silence. "Seems like she shouldn't have been gone for so long."

Jon chewed the inside of his lip and stared at a spot on the floor. "It is a bit suspect," he muttered. "Especially with everything that's happened today."

"Do you think the horse got her?" Martin asked followed almost immediately by a short, sharp laugh. "Sorry! It's not that I find it funny, her potentially being in danger. More like…it was just a funny-sounding sentence." Martin shook his head and sighed. "I'll shut up now."

"N-no, I, uh…I understand. Wh-what you mean," Jon stuttered, suddenly feeling _way_ more awkward than before. He met Martin's eyes for a moment and gave him a small smile before looking away quickly, so he missed Martin's blush. Jon cleared his throat, "I'm sure she's fine. Gertrude left the archives in a state of chaos. So if it takes Sasha a little longer to find something, I don't think we need to be too worried just yet."

Martin hummed in agreement. "Someone probably should have gone with her, though."

"Because of the horse," Jon said quietly, nodding.

Martin chuckled. "Yeah, because of the horse."

They exchanged an amused glance before waiting for an update from Tim about Elias.

* * *

At the hospital, Tim was having a much tougher time of it.

It had been okay at first. Tim had arrived at the hospital and been sent to the waiting room while a doctor checked Elias out. He figured they'd be in, out, and on their way, back to the archives in no time. So, of course, that's not how it happened.

A doctor approached him after a little while. "Tim Stoker?" she asked. Tim stood and nodded. "The receptionist told me you came in with Mr. Bouchard." Tim nodded again. "I'm Doctor Peck." They shook hands and Tim mumbled the obligatory, "Nice to meet you."

Dr. Peck smiled. "So, the good news is that nothing is broken. Just a few scrapes and bruises."

"…and the bad news?" Tim asked, not liking where this was going.

"Well," Dr. Peck started slowly, her smile dropping. "He seems _very_ confused. Which may be a sign of a concussion. So we're going to run some tests and see. I just thought I'd update you on his status."

Tim nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. If I may, confused…how?"

Dr. Peck shifted. "He seems to think it's nineteen-ninety-six."

"Right," Tim said. "Well, thank you for the update."

"Of course." Dr. Peck turned and left.

Tim ~~hoped~~ thought it would get better from there.

It didn't.

Tim knew he'd been gone for too long when Jon texted him, asking for an update. And he knew something was seriously wrong when Dr. Peck approached him again with an expression that was, perhaps, a little _too_ composed. Tim stopped pacing and faced the doctor.

Dr. Peck tried for a smile but it was tight and Tim could tell it was forced. "The good news is, it doesn't look like he has a concussion. The bad news, he had a bit of an episode when he caught his reflection. He keeps claiming he's in his twenties. We've managed to calm him down for now, but he seems extremely distressed and upset about it."

"I can look after him," Tim said quickly. "If your tests came back negative, he's free to go, right?"

Dr. Peck paused. "Unfortunately, it's not that simple." She paused again. Tim tried not to interrupt her. "We're holding him under the Mental Health Act."

" _What?_ "

Dr. Peck held up her hand, making a 'stop' gesture. "We couldn't find anything physically wrong, but he continually insists that it's the nineties. And he's still very distressed about his age. Myself and our resident psychiatrist have agreed that he needs to be under our care, just until we can figure out what's going on in his brain."

Tim took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. But all he could really see was this new Elias's weirdly happy-go-lucky attitude and wonder how in the world they had decided he was a danger to himself or others.

Finally, he found his voice again and said in measured tones, "I honestly don't think that's necessary. I've known him for years now, he isn't the type to hurt himself. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"What's your relationship to him?" Dr. Peck asked, her tone suspicious.

Tim really should have lied. And he wasn't sure why he hadn't. "He's my boss, but he's been my boss for _years_. We're…we're very close." Ouch. That lie had been harder to pull off.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Peck said with her best sympathetic tone, "but even if he was a family member, there's nothing you can do right now that wouldn't require the proper paperwork. We're holding him. Just until we can determine what's wrong and treat him properly." Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the waiting room.

Tim ran his hands through his hair. "Shit."

* * *

The door to Jon's office burst open to reveal Martin, breathless for some reason. Before Jon could get after Martin for not knocking, Martin told him, "Tim and Elias are back."

Jon quickly grabbed his crutches and followed Martin out, but not before pausing to tuck the Leitner (still wrapped in his cardigan) under his arm. He figured, better to have it close than lying about where it very well might just disappear on him, since it had just mysteriously appeared for Rosie. They still needed to burn it but it didn't seem like a good time with whatever had happened to Elias. And Sasha was now, what Jon and Martin had decided, missing. The book was the last thing on their minds.

"What took you so long?" Jon asked as Tim and Elias entered the common workspace. Tim glared at Jon as Elias plopped down into a chair, moaning.

"I had to kidnap him," Tim growled.

" _You what?!_ " Jon snapped as Martin went over to Elias, who was still bemoaning about something under his breath.

"They were trying to keep him at the hospital under the Mental Health Act," Tim explained in a hard voice. "I couldn't let them, considering the situation we're in. Something is wrong with him, and it has nothing to do with his brain."

"You know they'll call in Scotland Yard," Jon said.

"What else did you want me to do?" Tim asked. "I had a very narrow window of opportunity before I couldn't get to him anymore. This situation was already bad enough, we didn't need the head of our institute in the mental ward."

As Tim and Jon continued to argue, Martin pulled up a chair, next to Elias.

"You doing okay?" Martin asked quietly. "Doesn't look like you broke anything. I don't see any casts o-or braces."

Elias threw his arms down to his sides and lamented, "I'm _old_!" loud enough that it stopped Tim and Jon's bickering. They both looked over at Elias.

"What?" Martin asked in a small voice, perplexed.

Elias sat up straighter and stretched out his arms, looking at his hands. "Look at me!" He reached up to run his fingers through his hair, mussing it up and making it stick up in odd places. "My hair's grey! I've got wrinkles where there weren't wrinkles before!" He brought his hands to his face. "But I still _feel_ twenty-eight. And this world? Is so different? Everything looks different. It's supposed to be nineteen-ninety-six. Not…twenty-sixteen."

Elias's words were enough to diffuse the tension building between Tim and Jon. They both edged closer to where Elias and Martin sat.

"You…you honestly don't remember anything after nineteen-ninety-six?" Jon asked. Some small part of him felt his growing curiosity—a sense of wonderment. How? And why?

"No! And now I'm old!" Elias leaned back in his chair again, throwing his head back in despair, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. Martin awkwardly reached up and robotically patted Elias's shoulder in some sort of comfort.

Then Tim realized something as he looked around the common workspace. "Sasha isn't back yet?"

Jon and Martin exchanged a look, and Martin removed his hand from Elias's shoulder.

"No," Jon said quietly. "We went to look for her in the stacks while you were out, but couldn't find her."

Tim let out an angry huff and stepped away from the other three. "Okay, what the fuck is going on? First a Leitner is delivered to the Institute, which contained a giant, pure black horse? And we don't even know where it went or what it's doing."

"Tim," Jon tried, in the softest tone he could muster, but Tim barreled on.

"And then Elias takes a spill down the stairs and mentally travels back in time?"

"Tim, please—" Martin tried, to no avail.

"And now Sasha is _missing_?" Tim was breathing hard, glaring at Jon and Martin. "Can someone _please_ tell me _what_ is going on before I completely lose it?"

Honestly, Jon was offended Tim thought he was hiding something (the irony was, unfortunately, lost on him), but before he could respond to Tim's questions, someone else's voice floated toward them.

"I believe I may have the answers you're looking for," the voice said, which sounded older and male.

They all—well, three of them did; Elias was still lamenting internally about his physical age—turned toward the voice in time to see a portly man step out from the shadows of the stacks. His hair was blond, starting to grey, and he held himself with posture to be envied. But his eyes were sad and ancient-looking. He held a book in his arms.

The man continued, "In fact, I believe I have quite a few answers to questions you haven't even thought to ask yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *surprised pikachu*
> 
> Also I'm not saying that this will become a Thing because anytime I even _think_ about a posting schedule, the universe likes to nerf me and make it so I'm unable to post when I say I will. _That said_ , updates (whenever I finish a new chapter), will be on Mondays (to make Mondays a little more bearable) and/or Thursdays (because…well, _you know why_ ). Whichever day is closer to the day I finish any given chapter. Hope all that made sense.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/621938600157790208/chapter-2-1996)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	3. Two Injured Nerds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just wanna go apeshit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, guys!

There was a moment of stunned silence, where the three of them just stared at the newcomer before them.

Leitner let them take that moment before he opened his mouth again, to say something more, but was swiftly interrupted from a book flying straight into his face, the spine crashing into his nose with a painful-sounding thud. The cardigan the book was wrapped in fluttered to the ground half-way between Jon and Leitner as the latter man let out a startled and pained yelp, one of his hands going up to hold his nose, and the former man struggled to get his balance back, having dropped one of his crutches in order to throw the book.

Tim and Martin looked at their boss with wide eyes and slack jaws as Jon hobbled over to lean on a nearby desk before he lost his balance.

"Huh," Tim said. "Who knew, our resident nerd's got an arm on him."

Yes, it seemed the universe (or what have you) had granted Jon the aim of the most skillful archer and the arm of a cricket player. Even though a book was nothing like a ball. And Jon hadn't played cricket in at least 10 years.

Jon gave Tim the side-eye. "If I remember correctly, you worked in research, too, before you joined the archives. Nerd."

"Oh, shit, bro!" Elias exclaimed, chortling. "You just go _burned_." He went up to Jon and held up his hand for Jon to hi-five.

That broke Jon from his concentration. Not one to leave someone hanging, Jon, albeit confusedly (barring how strange it felt to see Elias act like a teenager), held up his hand for Elias to hi-five as he asked, "How does he know that colloquialism?"

"How do _you_?" Martin asked, incredulously.

It went unnoticed for Elias began speaking again, "What's a column…iminism? Clock-tuile-ism? Color-quill-ism?" Elias shook his head. "Woahhhhhh, dude, that's such a big word. You must be like, _super_ smart."

"I am." Jon muttered under his breath as he reached up to readjust his glasses. "Can someone hand me my other crutch, please?"

As Elias picked up Jon's other crutch and handed it back to him, Tim facepalmed and tried to get away from the current line of conversation, "I gave him my phone on the ride back," he explained. "To distract him."

Elias produced Tim's phone as he sat back down and grinned. "Technology is _so cool_ in the twenty-first century, yo! There are all these little people living in these tiny computers that you can ask questions to. And you can touch the screens and press buttons, even though there aren't any actual buttons."

"Y-yes…we-we know," Jon tried to interrupt, but Elias kept talking, unaware.

"Oh, I gotta show you guys this funny cat video I found on this website called YouTube!"

As Elias went to pull it up on Tim's phone, however, Leitner spoke from behind his hand, still cradling his nose, "I hate to interrupt, but my nose is bleeding. Would any of you happen to have any tissues on hand?"

Elias, who had the attention-span of a dog (probably a golden retriever, going by his demeanor), perked up at this and grabbed a tissue box sitting on the desk nearest to him. He turned toward Leitner, holding the box out to him, with an enthusiastic, "Sure!"

Before Leitner could grab the box, let alone a tissue, Jon went over and swatted the box out of Elias's hand with one of his crutches (nearly losing his balance again) and snapped, "No!" Elias yelped and dove for the tissue box, unperturbed by Jon's strong reaction.

Leitner let out a resigned sigh. "Jon—" he started.

"Don't ' _Jon_ ' me!" Jon snapped, facing Leitner. "Being so irresponsible—letting your books out into the world so recklessly. For anyone to find!"

"It's not that simple, Jon," Leitner tried again.

Jon let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, is it ever?" He shook his head, glaring at Leitner. "You tried to control something that wasn't yours to control. And look what happened. **I wish Gerard had kicked the ever-living shit out of you. You're lucky he didn't kill you. Lucky he didn't realize it was you. I wish he** _ **had**_ **killed you** —"

* * *

Jon, sat behind his desk, let out a big, long breath. His hands trembled slightly (though, after the worms, they almost always trembled these days) and he clasped them together tightly as Martin camp and gratefully took his mug from Martin.

"Thank you, Martin," he mumbled.

Martin sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of Jon's desk and mumbled back, "Of course."

Jon took a small sip of his tea before letting out another small breath. "I'm sorry you had to see that." He paused. "…I didn't know that would set me off."

Martin sipped at his own tea, thinking, before, "I mean, it's understandable. His books have done…unimaginable harm."

"Still, as your boss"— _Right. Boss,_ Martin thought dejectedly—"it's important I set a precedent. An outburst like that is…very unbecoming."

"Jon," Martin said, waiting until Jon looked up from his tea to meet Martin's gaze. "I don't know exactly what that was about, and I'm not asking you to tell me if you're not ready, but just from what I know, your reaction was completely justified."

There was only so much shock one could handle in a day, Jon hadn't met his quota yet. This was quickly replaced by, to Jon's slight surprise, relief and even comfort. He couldn't help but smile a little at Martin's words.

"Thank you, Martin," Jon said quietly. Martin returned his smile.

After a few moments of silence, Martin set his mug of tea down and said, "Jon, can I…ask you something?"

"…sure."

"How did you know Gerard beat Leitner up?"

Jon blinked. "Well, I…I must've read it _some_ where, surely…" He trailed off as he thought. The problem was, the more he thought, the more he realized, the more he _felt_ , he hadn't read it anywhere. The information had simply just come to him. Jon met Martin's gaze again and he answered in a quiet voice, "I don't know."

Out in the common workspace, Tim sat across from Leitner, a first-aid kid laid open on the desk next them. Elias was also still sitting out there, playing a game on Tim's phone. Elias had taken off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up the sleeves, and unbuttoned the top button of his button-down. His hair was sticking up in odd places. It was…a very weird sight to behold. But a lot of weird things had already happened today. (And, spoiler alert, it wasn't going to let up any time soon.)

"Thank you," Leitner said as Tim began to clean up.

Tim shot a glare at Leitner. "Don't."

Leitner sighed. "I am just trying to help."

Tim slammed the first-aid kit closed. "What's that saying? 'The path to hell is paved with good intentions'?" Leitner opened his mouth to respond but Tim interrupted him, "Jon and I may have our differences right now but he's not one to easily anger to the point of violence. Whatever you did, with your _books_ , his reaction was warranted."

"I understand that you're angry at me because you think the horse that came from that book"—Leitner nodded to the one still lying on the floor where it'd landed after smashing into Leitner's face—"hurt Sasha."

"Well, it did, didn't it?"

"I'm afraid it's bigger than that," Leitner began. "The Sasha you know is not who she says she is."

Back in Jon's office, the two had settled into a sort of comfortable silence. Which made it easier to hear Tim's angry footsteps approach. The door swung open, Tim looking near frantic. His eyes were watery.

"You guys need to get out here," Tim said in a forceful tone. "Right now." Martin opened his mouth to object but Tim silenced him with a glare. " _Right. Now._ " He turned and left, leaving the door open.

Martin turned back toward Jon. "You don't have to listen to him. If you're not ready to…face Leitner again."

"It's alright, Martin," Jon assured, grabbing his crutches, standing, and making his way around his desk. Martin stood, too. Jon gave him a small smile and said, "Being in your company has really helped." before exiting his office.

[ _Martin.exe_ _stopped working._ ]

It was all Martin could do to follow Jon out into the common workspace _and_ remember to close the door to Jon's office.

They all sat in a circle, begrudgingly looking at Leitner. Tim had wrestled his phone back from Elias, who was pouting, but paying attention. Mostly. Trying to.

Leitner held the book he'd arrived with, as well as _Black Beauty_. He was, somehow, able to touch it without animals bursting from the pages. Jon's cardigan had been returned to him.

"The Sasha James who has been working with you for about two months now is not the Sasha James you knew," Leitner repeated. Then promptly held up his hand as Tim, Martin, and Jon tried to ask questions. "It would take too long to explain everything. We can do that after—"

"After _what_?" Tim asked, agitated and impatient.

Leitner looked at him. "After we rescue the real Sasha."

"Hold on," Jon said. "How do we even know you're telling us the truth about all this?"

"You won't have to take my word for it," Leitner said cryptically. "You can take Sasha's. The real Sasha."

Tim was close to snapping. " _What_ —?"

But a realization dawned on Jon just then. "The missing tapes," he said. "After Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute, two tapes went missing. 0051701 and 0160204." Blank looks met him.

"I hate to state the obvious, bro, but you just said a bunch of random numbers," Elias said.

Jon sighed. "They're dates. The first statement was about a red Calliope. Sasha interrupted the recording. The second statement was _from_ Sasha, about the Distortion." Jon turned toward Leitner. "Do you know where they are?"

"No," Leitner answered. "But I have a feeling the… _other_ Sasha took them."

Jon glanced at Sasha's desk. He grabbed his crutches from the desk they were leaning on, stood, and made his way over to her desk. He leaned against it, letting go of one of his crutches (leaning it against her desk, as well) but as he reached for the handle to one of the drawers, Tim stopped him.

"Should we really be going through her things?" he asked. He was still sat down, turned so he could see Jon.

Jon looked over at Tim. "If Leitner is telling the truth about Sasha not being Sasha…wouldn't you want to know?"

Tim stared at Jon for a long moment. "Then let me." He stood and made his way over to Sasha's desk. Jon grabbed his other crutch and stepped back as Tim took a deep breath and began going through Sasha's desk drawers.

"The usual things," he muttered as he pulled out sticky-notes, pens, and pencils—things you'd find inside any office drawer. "Some…polaroid photos that…hm, look a bit weird." He set these things out on Sasha's desk. "I don't think— Wait. There's something at the back, blends in with the wood." Tim reached in, as far as the drawer would let him, and met something that felt like paper.

He grabbed it and pulled it out. Something small-ish and rectangular was wrapped in brown paper. A cold stone grew in his stomach as he set it down on an empty space on Sasha's desk and carefully unfolded the paper. There, sat in the middle, were two tapes labeled with the dates Jon had said a moment before.

Tim felt his world spin and the breath leave him. He sat down heavily in Sasha's desk chair, feeling lightheaded. His mind was flitting through all his memories, trying to find anything suspicious about them. But it only made things worse. All he saw was the person Leitner was telling him _wasn't_ Sasha. _How was that even possible?_

"And…what exactly will these tapes tell us?" Martin asked softly as Jon slowly approached Tim and the tapes.

"Listen to them, you'll hear," Leitner said, nodding to the tapes.

Jon glanced at Tim before going into his office to grab his tape recorder. Meanwhile, Elias had gotten up and gotten Tim a glass, well mug—since mugs were the only thing they had in the kitchenette cabinets—of water. Tim looked up at Elias, dazed and maybe a little surprised at the gesture.

"I have no idea what's going on right now, but you looked like you could use it, homie," Elias said, patting Tim's shoulder and handing Tim the mug, who stiffly took it. Elias gave him a sympathetic smile before sitting back down in his chair in the circle.

Jon returned with his tape recorder carefully tucked under his arm and went back over to where Tim sat at Sasha's desk. Leaning against Sasha's desk, Jon let go of one of his crutches so he could making a spot for the tape recorder on Sasha's desk before setting it down and putting in tape 0160204. Sucking in a breath, Jon pressed PLAY.

The moment it began to play, Jon's heart hit the floor. Martin felt his stomach knot sickeningly. Tim stared blankly into the water of his mug, but he was gripping the mug so hard, the tendons over his knuckles stuck out starkly.

"That's…" Martin tried.

"Sasha's voice," Tim said, his voice thick. "Her _real_ voice."

Jon shook his head, trying to picture the Sasha they heard but only seeing the Sasha that worked with them now. "H-how is that even possible?" He leaned harder against the desk, his free hand grabbing his other crutch again, his knees feeling weak.

"Gertrude called it the NotThem" Leitner began to explain. "In short, it is an entity that can alter reality. It takes their…victim and then it warps memories, photographs, any mark their victim has left behind, and replaces them with its new form. With the exception"—Leitner pointed to the tape recorder that was still playing—"of recorded voices. That is why you all are having such trouble remembering what your Sasha looked like."

Tim finally looked up from his mug, his chest heaving like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs no matter how big a breath he took. His eyes focused on Leitner and he stood, haphazardly setting the mug on Sasha's desk.

"And she…" Tim tried in a breathless voice. "She's still…alive?" His voice broke and he blinked back tears.

Leitner nodded and some of the tension in Tim's shoulders dissipated. "I can help you rescue her. But we must hurry. The NotThem will find her way back to the Institute soon enough."

Jon pressed the STOP button on the tape recorder. "Where is…it now? She—it disappeared after that horse appeared and we haven't seen it since."

"Yes, because it entered the tunnels underneath the Institute. Most likely because of what happened to Elias." Leitner gestured to Elias who was staring at something in the kitchenette. Jon, Tim, and Martin all exchanged glances as Elias pointed to what he was staring at.

"That water stain kind of looks like a unicorn," Elias said looking back at the group. His smile dropped and he slowly lowered his arm when he realized they were all staring at him. "What'd I do?"

Leitner ignored him. "Elias Bouchard, the real one"—he threw a glance at Elias who waved and grinned back—"was possessed by Jonah Magnus."

"Hold on." Tim held up his hand. "The Institute's namesake, Jonah Magnus?"

"Just so," Leitner said.

"Of course he's still alive, why am I surprised?" Tim sat back down in Sasha's desk chair and threw his arms up in exasperation.

"He's been body-hopping for a while now," Leitner continued. "And Elias just happened to be his unfortunate victim for the last twenty-some-odd years. I'm unsure of exactly what happened but something forced Jonah from Elias's body right before he fell down the stairs today."

"That's why he was acting so strange," Martin said. "That explains…I mean, it brings up a lot more questions than it answers, but it at least explains…something."

"That also explains why he can't remember the past twenty years," Jon commented. "Why he still thinks it's the nineties. Why he thinks he's still in his twenties. He wasn't aware of anything while Jonah possessed him."

"Okay, great, one mystery solved—" Tim started.

"Is it, though?" Martin asked.

Tim ignored him. "So now we go save Sasha."

* * *

"I don't like it down here," Elias complained. "It smells weird. And the lighting's really bad. And there's a ton of creepy stuff." He was walking next to Martin. Well, "next to" was rather liberal. In reality, he was hugging one of Martin's arms like it was a security blanket, hunched over, staying as close as possible to Martin as he could.

"Yes, unfortunately; it's a bit cliché, but it's just a part of the genre," Martin muttered, glancing around at all the artefacts. And if this were made through a visual medium, Martin would've looked straight into the camera at that. Alas, he was confined to the written word.

"What?" Elias asked.

Martin shook his head. "Nothing." He glanced at Elias, feeling him pull away, just in time to see him reaching for something, and quickly smacked his arm.

"Don't touch anything," Martin hissed as Elias rubbed his arm and pouted at Martin. "Come on, we're falling behind." Martin grabbed Elias's arm and pulled him along to where Tim, Jon, and Leitner were.

They stopped a few feet away from the table. Best not tempt fate and get caught staring at the fractal patterns.

Before they'd ventured into Artefact Storage, Leitner had had to switch out his books. He had also, regrettably, taken _Black Beauty_. The others, still in shock over what they'd learned about Sasha, didn't even notice Leitner had gone off with it until it was too late. And if they wanted to save Sasha, they needed Leitner conscious.

They huddled in a group to discuss the game plan. Well, tried to. Anytime Elias spotted something more interesting than their current conversation, Martin had to wrangle him back into the huddle before he could break something. Or touch something cursed.

"This book will allow us to enter the table, essentially," Leitner explained, presenting the book and pressing his hand against the cover. "Once we're inside, the book will act as an anchor and doorway back to, well, here. Additionally, Jon you'll need…" He faltered, censoring some things and editing others in his head. It really was a pain they were on a time crunch and he wasn't able to tell them about the 14 fears and whatnot. "Well, being the head archivist for the Magnus Institute comes with certain abilities. You will need those abilities to navigate your way through the maze. But it won't be easy."

"Of course not." Jon nodded.

"I'll do my best to help, but it's more dependent on you. We _have_ to stick together, at all costs. This may go without saying, but entering this table will put both of us in mortal peril."

"Sounds good," Tim said. "I'm coming, too."

"I don't think— That's not really necessary, Tim," Jon said in the best level tone he could muster.

"Like hell!" Tim snapped.

"You do remember the part where it's extremely dangerous, right?" Jon asked.

"You know, I _really_ hate that your defense mechanism is 'condescending,'" Tim shot back.

Jon's face flushed and he gripped his crutch handles tighter. "Well, maybe if you didn't try to fight me on _everything_ , I wouldn't need to be condescending."

Tim stepped into Jon's personal space. "Listen, Sims, I may be a nerd, but this nerd"—he pointed to himself—"could easily take this nerd"—he jabbed his first finger into Jon's chest—"in a real fight."

"Great," Martin interjected, "and then we'll have two injured nerds and no one to go rescue Sasha." Elias snickered, and he and Martin, who didn't stop glaring at Jon and Tim, lo-fived. Martin looked at Jon. "Just let him go with you, Jon. Three is better than two. Power in numbers and all that."

"It's not that…I don't want you to come for different reasons than you're assuming," Jon said, taking a step back. "I just…I don't want anyone else to get hurt, alright?"

Tim's shoulders sagged slightly. "That's all well and good," he said in a softer tone. "But Sasha's my oldest and closest friend. _I'm going with you_."

"Hey, can I come, too!" Elias said, looking away from an artefact that'd had his attention and to the group.

"What? No," Jon said. "'Mortal peril.' 'Dangerous.' Why is no one listening to me today?"

"Aw, man," Elias complained. "I wanna go on a field trip." He crossed his arms and pouted. "You're really harshing my mood, man."

"I don't…know what that means—never mind." Jon faced Tim. "Let's go. We're wasting time." Jon looked at Martin as Tim stepped closer to Leitner. "Will you look after…" His eyes flickered to Elias.

"Yeah, sure." Martin nodded. "Can do."

"Thank you, Martin. We'll be back soon." Jon turned but Martin stopped him.

"Jon…be careful," he said.

Jon smiled. "Always."

"Aren't you gonna tell me to be careful, too, Martin?" Tim asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Martin's face flushed but he didn't know how to respond without looking like more of a lovestruck idiot.

* * *

Elias turned to Martin. "So, what now?"

Jon, Tim, and Leitner had just disappeared in a flash of light amidst Leitner reading some ancient language out loud from the book he'd brought.

"We wait," Martin said, staring at the table, worry beginning to trickle in.

"Down here?" Elias whispered, looking around at all the artefacts.

Martin also glanced around. "No," he sighed, "we can go wait in the archives."

"Can we stop by the vending machines on the way back?" Elias asked as they turned to exit Artefact Storage. "The Institute still has vending machines, right?"

Martin tried not to sigh again. "Yes, they do."

"Sweet!"

Meanwhile, two women in officer uniforms were entering the Institute. Rosie stood to greet them with her patented customer service smile.

"Hi there! We were just about to close up. Can you come back tomorrow?" she asked.

"We're looking for Elias Bouchard," one of them said, ignoring Rosie's question, while the other looked around.

"Do you have an appointment?" Rosie asked.

They both faced Rosie then and the other gestured to their uniforms. "Actually this is police business," she said. "We can't get into too much detail but the short of it is one of your coworkers kidnapped Mr. Bouchard from the hospital after finding out they were holding him under the Mental Health Act. Have you seen Mr. Bouchard today? He, as well as your coworker, could be in danger."

Rosie changed her smile to an expression of sympathy. "That sounds terrible! I can't imagine one of my coworkers doing anything like that. Unfortunately, I haven't seen Elias," she said even though she distinctly remembered Tim coming through the entrance with Elias earlier that day. "They didn't come back here. I'm sure they anticipated this being one of the first places you'd look."

_Oh, she's good._

Rosie continued, "If you'd like, I could talk to my coworkers and see if they know or saw anything. Who should I ask for if I want to call it in?"

"Doesn't matter, we'll be back tomorrow."

"If it's all the same, I'd still like your names," Rosie insisted.

One of them eyed her up and down before, "Daisy Tonner."

"Hussain," the other said. "Basira."

"Then I guess I will see you tomorrow," Rosie said. "Officer Tonner, Officer Hussain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes emoji*
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/622309562533511168/chapter-3-two-injured-nerds)
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	4. Now We Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spy, with my little eye.

Martin let out a sigh and closed the door quietly, turning to lean against it. "Okay, I think they're gone," he whispered as looked up at Elias, who was sitting on an overturned bucket and munching on a Snickers bar.

"Why are we hiding in a broom closet?" Elias asked in a normal tone, through a mouth full of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts.

Martin ran a hand through his hair. "You're technically a fugitive, remember? The hospital was holding you under some act and Tim helped you escape."

"Oh yeah!" Elias grinned.

They'd been coming from the vending machines, heading back toward the archives, and had turned a corner only to see two familiar police officers opening the doors to the Institute. Panicking, Martin had pulled Elias back behind the corner and shoved him into the nearest room, which happened to be the janitor's closet.

"Oh God, I hope Tim, Jon, and Leitner come back soon with Sasha," Martin muttered before addressing Elias, "Come on, we should get back to the archives."

Martin opened the door again and started to exit, looking up and down the hall. Half-way through the door, as he looked over his shoulder, down the hallway they were in, he spotted a familiar figure coming their way. Without warning, he spun around and shoved Elias back inside hissing, "Stay quiet!" before closing the door just as ~~Not~~ Sasha came up to him. He smiled and leaned against the door as casually as he could.

"Hey, Sasha," he intoned, smiling at her. In his chest, his heart was beating out of control. His mind screaming at him: _Not Sasha! Not Sasha! Not Sasha!_

 ~~Not~~ Sasha eyed him suspiciously before nodding. "Martin." She pointed to the closet door. "Were you…just in that broom closet?"

Martin glanced at the door. "I was looking for some paper towels. Spilled some tea. The men's was out. Couldn't find a janitor."

"Right, well, they've all probably gone home," ~~Not~~ Sasha said. "Why are you still here?"

"Elias said he wanted to meet with me," Martin said shrugging. "Didn't say about what. Went to his office but he was out. Door was locked. I'm waiting just in case he comes back."

 ~~Not~~ Sasha's expression grew more suspicious. "Today? You've seen him today?"

"No!" Martin said quickly. Too quickly. And too enthusiastically. He cleared his throat and shifted, but still leaning against the door. "I mean, no. He talked to me about it yesterday. What are you still doing here? Did you ever find what it was you were looking for in the stacks? Took you quite a while."

 ~~Not~~ Sasha shook her head. "No, it's too disorganized; my computer is still on the fritz, so that's no help. And I was looking for all of you." She narrowed her eyes. "When I got back to the archives, it was empty."

"Well, they all probably went home," Martin replied.

"Right."

Martin smiled at ~~Not~~ Sasha and they fell into an awkward silence. Luckily for him, he'd sat through a ton of awkward silences in his life. He was used to it.

"Well, I'm going back down to the archives," ~~Not~~ Sasha finally said. "I still have a little work to finish up."

"Sure."

"Are you going to…join me?" she asked.

"No, I think I'll keep looking for paper towels."

"Right, for the tea you spilled."

Martin nodded. ~~Not~~ Sasha stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finally brushing past him and turning the corner. Martin stayed where he stood, looking over his shoulder as he listened to ~~Not~~ Sasha's footsteps retreat and fade. When he was sure she was gone for good, Martin turned and peeked around the corner for good measure. No sign of her in the hallway.

Martin opened the door to the broom closet to see Elias sitting on the floor, building something with ice lolly sticks. What ice lolly sticks were doing in a janitor's closet was beyond Martin. A mystery for another day. There were far too many mysteries going on today.

Elias looked up and waved when Martin opened the door.

"Are we gonna go back to the archives now?" he asked.

Martin looked at the hall corner again. If ~~Not~~ Sasha was really still down there…. He turned back to Elias and slipped inside the broom closet. "No, I think the safest spot is here, right now."

"Can we at least go get another snack from the vending machine?" Elias asked.

"Uh, sure," Martin muttered pulling out his phone. "Let me just…" He pulled up his contact list. "I hope they get these," he mumbled as he typed out a text to both Jon and Tim, just in case. Martin looked up from his phone and spotted a roll of paper towels. "You stay here. I'll get you a snack. Uh, here, you can play on my phone." Martin threw Elias his phone before grabbing the paper towels and looking down at Elias. " _Stay here_." He reiterated. "Do not come out for any reason. I'll come get you when it's safe. Do you understand? It's imperative you stay here."

Elias nodded, grinning. "What does…'imperative' mean?"

Martin stared down at Elias. "Important. It's important you stay here until I come get you, okay?"

Elias gave Martin a thumbs up. Martin returned it, albeit a little less enthusiastically. He quickly grabbed a few things from the vending machine and gave them to Elias before heading back into the archives. ~~Not~~ Sasha was still there, writing something down. She looked up when Martin entered the common workspace.

Martin brandished the roll of paper towels. "Found them."

 ~~Not~~ Sasha watched Martin as he went over to his desk, setting her pen down. "I didn't see any tea when I first came down here."

"Must've dried," Martin said looking down at his desk. "Easy enough fix, I can wet the paper towel." Martin hoped he looked normal as he walked over to the sink, then back to his desk. He could feel ~~Not~~ Sasha's eyes on him the entire time. She finally stopped staring at him after he'd thrown the paper towels in the waste bin and sat down at this desk to pretend to do some work.

"Thought you'd leave by now," Sasha said after an agonizingly quiet hour. "I think it's clear Elias isn't going to be meeting with you."

Martin looked up from his poetry. "I could say the same thing for you." ~~Not~~ Sasha opened her mouth to respond but Martin continued, "You know you won't get any overtime for this, right?"

 ~~Not~~ Sasha started to answer but broke off just as Martin felt a pressure in his head, intense and sudden. It gave him an instant migraine and he doubled over in pain. Every memory of Sasha, all at once, burst into his consciousness, Sasha and NotSasha smashing together, fracturing and reforming, but coming back like a corrupted JPEG file.

When the pain subsided, but didn't go away completely, Martin straightened up and looked around, trying to blink away the images. ~~Not~~ Sasha was gone. Images of Sasha and NotSasha were still fighting in his mind, flashing over his eyes. It was disorienting but at least Martin had enough of a mind to know he needed to get to Artefact Storage immediately. And curse incessantly the entire time.

Martin passed the janitor's closet on his way there and paused just long enough to think about checking up on Elias but figured there wasn't time and continued on.

* * *

Jon's headache was probably the least painful out of everyone else's. He wondered vaguely if anyone who'd interacted with Sasha was also experiencing the same thing or if it depended on how many close memories a person held of her. The reason for the severity (or lack thereof) of his headache, of course, was due to his status as Head Archivist.

Unfortunately, his little jaunt in the table had dented up his crutches. Not enough to make them completely unusable, but enough that he'd certainly need new ones soon.

Sasha wasn't experiencing any headaches, though she seemed a little dazed. No one could really blame her.

"Now what?" Tim asked, holding his head and blinking hard like it'd get rid of his headache, or the visions.

"Oh, my," NotSasha's voice floated through Artefact Storage, toward them. "Looks like you've found my little stash."

Leitner straightened up, squinting from his headache. "We have to get rid of it. I have a book—"

NotSasha interrupted, appearing several feet away, "Oh, I'm afraid it's much too late for that." It was hard to look at—blurry in some places, fuzzy in others. When limbs moved there seemed to be more than one. At least ten. Definitely more. It looked like one of those movie visual effects, only a thousand times worse.

It began to laugh, approaching slowly. The four of them huddled together, backing toward the table they'd just left.

"Okay, what do we do now? It's blocking the only exit." Tim asked, glancing over at Leitner, who didn't respond. "You're the one who knows the most right now!"

NotSasha laughed harder. "Pitiful. If only you knew how _little_ he actually knows. He's just a sad, old man with a god complex. For as long as you've had those _books_ of your—" It broke off abruptly on the account of being hit on the head with a push broom. (From the janitor's closet. The one Martin had passed but then realized something inside could be useful and went back.)

At least…Martin thought it was the head. But he didn't have a lot of time to think about that. Before NotSasha could really react, he wacked it on the side of what he thought was its head again. And again. And one more time for good measure.

"I'm not a mouse!" NotSasha snapped, spinning to face him. At least, Martin thought it was facing him. It was hard to tell on top of the visions of Sasha and NotSasha flashing across his vision. "I guess you'll be first!" It began approaching him.

Jon stepped forward, worried. "Martin, run!"

Martin didn't listen. Instead, he took a few quick steps back, then held the push broom in front of him like a jousting lance. With a shout, he ran at NotSasha, shoving her back with the broom and forcing the four behind to jump out of the way.

Martin didn't stop until he'd rammed it up against the table.

"Now we run!" he shouted, struggling to hold NotSasha against the table. "Go!"

Tim took Sasha's arm and quickly exited together, Leitner close behind. Jon went over to Martin and pulled at Martin's sleeve, not completely letting go of his crutch.

"Let's go, Martin," he said. Martin glanced back at NotSasha, giving it one last shove before he took off with Jon. They caught up to the other three in the hall.

"Okay, we need a game plan," Jon ~~said~~ wheezed as they ran. He was fairing relatively well with his crutches, maybe a little slower than the rest of them, but it was certainly still something he needed to get used to. Hopefully, though, he wouldn't be running from Lovecraftian monsters a lot in the future.

"I have an idea," Sasha said. "Can you keep it away from the archives for a few minutes?"

"I think we can manage," Jon answered.

"Good. Tim, you're with me. Meet us in the courtyard in five minutes. Try to get it to step on the X. I'll take it from there."

Tim and Sasha split off.

"I can go get a book—" Leitner started to say but Jon interrupted him.

"Hold on, I just need a quick breather," he gasped, slowing down, forcing the others to stop. "We need to strategize, anyway."

"Do we have time?" Martin asked, throwing a nervous look down the hall they were in, listening for the sound of NotSasha.

"Well, we'll have to strategize at _some_ point," Jon said. "It'd just be easier if we weren't running while trying to do it."

"Martin's right," Leitner said, stepping closer to Jon. "We need to get move—"

Without warning, Jon lurched up, throwing his fist into Leitner's jaw, knocking him out cold. One of his crutches clattered to the floor and Jon struggled to keep his balance.

"Jon!" Martin yelled, startled, but almost subconsciously went over to steady Jon, offering his arm, which Jon took.

"I don't trust him," Jon said, his expression pained, as Martin carefully reached down to pick up Jon's other crutch, while still letting Jon hold his arm. "I'm not going to let him run off to go get his _book_ and I'm not leaving you alone to deal with NotSasha by yourself. Sasha said she had a plan. I trust her."

Jon had just gotten his hand around the handle of his crutch as a voice floated down the halls just then. "Oh, Jon!" NotSasha called in a sing-song voice.

Jon sighed heavily. "Why is it always me?"

"What are we going to do with him?" Martin whispered. "We can't just leave him."

"I mean, we definitely could do that," Jon said. Martin gave him a stern look before looking around the hall. Conveniently enough, they'd stopped right next to the janitor's closet Martin had left Elias in.

"In here," Martin said, nodding to the door before going over to Leitner. He quickly dragged Leitner's unconscious body over to the door as Jon pushed Leitner's book with crutches toward the door.

Elias was still in there. He'd built a small, crude city out the ice lolly sticks and was now watching some cartoon on Martin's phone, which was propped up with more ice lolly sticks, sitting on one of the shelves that held cleaning supplies. Elias was sitting on and overturned bucket. Jon didn't seem surprised to see Elias and if he was, he didn't say anything about it.

"Oh, hi guys!" Elias said, waving and smiling at them. "Hey, that's the Lighter guy. Is he okay?"

"Partied too hard," Jon deadpanned. Elias nodded in sympathy.

Martin snickered before he realized how rude that was. "Jon," he scolded but it was half-hearted.

Jon ignored him and continued to address Elias, "Can you watch him. And, uh, maybe tie him up if there's anything you can use in here."

Elias didn't seem to think that was suspicious at all. "There's some duct tape in here. Will that work?"

Martin shook his head in resignation as Jon nodded. "Thanks, Elias."

"I got you, bro," Elias said, before he took Leitner and carefully sat him down, leaned up against the wall. Jon gave the book another hard shove with one of his crutches and it slid into the closet, stopping when it hit Leitner's leg.

"Don't touch the book," Martin said. "And I still want you to stay in here, okay? Until I come get you."

Elias nodded dutifully. Martin closed the door just as NotSasha appeared at the end of the hall.

"There you are!" NotSasha exclaimed.

Jon groaned as he and Martin took off again.

[ _Cue Scooby-Doo chase montage. With a surprise appearance from the Scooby Gang!_ ]

"This…is probably… _the worst_ game of hide-and-seek I have _ever_ played," Martin gasped. He and Jon were leaning up against a wall, taking a breather, waiting for NotSasha to find them again.

Jon laughed through his own wheezes, and then winced. "D-don't make me laugh. I'll lose my balance. We also happen to be in mortal danger."

"I mean, what's new?" Martin looked over at Jon as Jon looked over at him and they broke into a fit of giggles. "Better to go out laughing, I always say."

Jon glanced down at his watch as NotSasha called his name again. "Our five minutes are up. We'd better get to the courtyard."

* * *

It was dark out (which, not uncommon for wintertime). Jon and Martin burst through the door to the courtyard, NotSasha on their heels. They quickly turned to face it and began to back up, as it laughed at them. Which, in retrospect, was not a good decision on Jon's part, seeing as walking backward with crutches was harder for him. Not impossible of course, he just wasn't used to it. This was on top of trying to discreetly scan the ground for the X Sasha had mentioned.

"Oh, you think running outside will help you?" NotSasha asked. "You're safer in your archives than you are out here. You've just made a grave error. And now you, _Archivist_ , and your… _friend_ , are going to die because of it."

Jon, not having time to wonder about the way NotSasha had called him "archivist," finally spotted the X because they'd just walked over it. He reached out and gently pulled at Martin's sleeve again, still keeping hold of his crutch handle, nodding to the X when Martin looked over at Jon. Martin nodded back.

NotSasha was none the wiser. It laughed again. "Oh, how sweet—seeking comfort in each other at the end."

Just a few…more…steps….

"Jump back!" Sasha yelled. Jon and Martin turned and jumped away—and, oh, Jon was going to regret doing that in the morning, but he also didn't have much choice. When they looked back, both on the ground, they squinted from the bright light coming from the ring of fire now surrounding NotSasha.

NotSasha merely laughed, undisturbed. "Oh, you think a little fire can hold _me_ back for long?"

"Not at all," Sasha said, stepping out from the shadows of the courtyard, Tim at her side. "But I don't need very long."

"Look at you," NotSasha taunted, turning to face Sasha. At least, that's what it looked like. "Free from your prison and suddenly you're all high and mighty."

Sasha glared, unamused. "I think you're forgetting one very important thing."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"I'm beholden to the Eye, too."

Sasha blinked and extra eyes opened up on her face, and down her neck, alongside her two normal ones. NotSasha's act dropped and it whimpered, stepping back, away from Sasha. But any further and it would run into the flames.

"No…" NotSasha's voice wavered.

All of Sasha's eyes glowed green. "And **I. See. You.** "

The NotThem began to shriek. The fire grew and Martin and Tim had to shield their eyes. Jon and Sasha did not.

And as Jon watched, still on the ground but having carefully turned himself over so he was sitting up, and facing the fire and the NotThem, he felt a shiver run down his spine from fear. But this fear was different than he'd felt when, say, he'd faced Jane Prentiss. No, this fear made him feel… _good_. Powerful. It was somehow, simultaneously, familiar and comfortable. On some level, it was strange, to feel comfort and power in fear. But in this moment, it felt good to Watch.

And for that moment, the Stranger became Known.

When the shrieking stopped, all of Sasha's eyes blinked, but only two (yes, the normal two) opened again. Jon swayed to one side and Sasha stumbled. Martin was at Jon's side, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tim steadied Sasha.

"We…we should put out the fire," Jon managed, his voice wavering.

"Right. Well, first, you should sit down somewhere other than the ground," Martin said, handing Jon's crutches and helping Jon stand before leading him over to one of the benches in the courtyard. Tim helped Sasha sit down, next to Jon.

Sasha smiled at Jon. "We're Eye buddies," she said cheerfully as Martin and Tim put out what was left of the ring of fire with leftover CO2 extinguishers from the archives, which Tim and Sasha had brought up with them, along with the petrol and matches.

Jon chuckled. "I have no idea what that means, you know."

"I know, but Leitner can explain," Sasha said. Then she looked around and realized something. "Where is he, anyway?"

Jon looked away and played with one his crutches, which were leaning against the bench. "Oh, he's perfectly fine." Sasha laughed and Jon looked back over at her. "I know I said this already, but I'm glad you're okay, Sasha. It's really good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too, Jon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeey, the OG archival gang's all here again!
> 
> Also, I'm all caught up with TMA S5 ;; bless that new ep
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/622576846882717696/chapter-4-now-we-run)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	5. A Big Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A harmless headcanon backfires on the author horribly.

Tim melted into one the chairs (which were still in a circle) in the archives. "Well that was an exhausting day."

The others had also taken seats in the circle. It was just hitting seven in the evening. The Institute was mostly dark and empty.

"Who knew working in an archive would be so exciting," Martin grumbled sarcastically.

"Yes, I think I've had enough excitement for a lifetime," Jon muttered. He shook his head. "I still have so many questions."

"Leitner knows more than I do," Sasha said. "He can explain it all tomorrow." She sat up straighter in her chair and looked at Jon. "Where is he, anyway?"

Tim looked around, too. "And where's Elias?"

Martin shot up from where he sat. "Oh, shit!"

When they opened the door to the janitor's closet, everyone relaxed. Leitner was still unconscious, sitting back against the wall. Except now, he had duct tape around his wrists and ankles.

Elias was curled up on the floor, snoring away, curled around Martin's phone, which was still playing that cartoon he'd been watching earlier.

"Aw, that's adorable," Sasha cooed quietly as they crowded around the doorway and looked at Elias.

"Did Tim and Jon update you on this whole situation?" Martin asked in the same soft voice. Sasha nodded.

"I guess we'd better wake him," Jon said. "Will you hold that for me?" he asked Martin, holding out one of his crutches. Martin nodded and took the crutch. Jon slipped inside, carefully knelt down next to Elias and gently shook Elias's shoulder.

Elias groaned and turned over, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. When his eyes focused on Jon he smiled.

"Hey, it's my best bud," he said sleepily.

"Oh, Jon!" Sasha exclaimed. "You didn't tell me you made a new friend." Jon glared at her over his shoulder but he was blushing, ruining the effect. Tim and Martin snickered.

Sighing, Jon turned back to Elias. "Come on, up we go." He stood and Elias followed suit. Martin returned Jon's crutch to him as they both exited the closet. Elias returned Martin's phone to him.

"What about Leitner?" Martin asked.

"What about him?" Jon replied.

Martin gave him a look. "We can't just leave him here."

"We most definitely can," Jon said.

"I'll take him back to my place," Sasha said. She was met with bewildered looks. "I know we all hate him but he has important information that you all need to hear. Better with one of us than back in the tunnels."

"Good point," Jon muttered as Martin asked, "How do you know all this?"

Sasha paused. "Well, it had a lot to do with my time in that table."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sasha," Martin said quickly. "I didn't mean—"

Sasha put a hand on Martin's shoulder. "It's okay, Martin. I understand your curiosity."

"Still, I'm sorry."

Sasha gave Martin a reassuring smile before turning to Tim. "Can you give me a hand?"

Tim threw his head back in mock petulance. "Ugh, fine." He stepped into the closet and threw Leitner over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, picking up on the book on his way up, and handing it to Sasha as he exited the closet.

Together, they headed to the exit.

As they were leaving the building, and were headed toward the car park, Jon stopped suddenly and said, "Oh! Like we are giving him a harsh attitude." before continuing on.

Behind him, Martin facepalmed and Tim snickered. He nudged Martin with his elbow and said, "You're gay for that."

Martin tried not to groan but his face turned even redder.

Louder, Tim asked, "Hey, since we were here late, does that mean we get overtime?"

"Technically, that'd still be up to Elias," Sasha said, looking to him.

Elias spun around, walking backwards, then beat the side of his fist against his chest twice before giving Tim a peace sign. "I got you, homie."

"No, you can't just—" Jon started before breaking off and sighing. "That brings up a good point, though. Someone still needs to _run_ the Institute."

"No more thinking," Martin complained. "We can discuss that all later." Then he sucked in a small breath. "Oh, we have another problem. Elias is still technically a fugitive. He'll have to stay with someone else…"

They slowed in their walk and all looked at each other, none of them exactly eager to house their new boss. Elias solved that rather quickly, completely oblivious to the tension.

"Nose goes!" he shouted, touching his nose with his first finger. Martin, Tim, and Sasha almost simultaneously touched their own noses, leaving a confused Jon looking at all three of them.

"Looks like he's staying with you, tonight," Martin chuckled.

"Wh-what? I can't—you can't expect _me_ to be the best person to house a fugitive!" Jon objected.

Sasha shrugged. "Hey, you lost the game."

"That's unfair! I didn't even know how the game worked until a few seconds ago."

"Hm, sounds like a you problem, boss," Tim said, giving a one-sided shrug for Leitner was still hanging over his other shoulder.

Jon stuttered for a few seconds before giving up. Everyone was tired and the shorter days made it feel later than it was. Not to mention, they'd just had to deal with _another_ attack on the Institute. At least the NotThem didn't have an army of aggressive, flesh-eating worms at its behest.

"Fine," Jon ground out. "Just for tonight. And then we're taking care of this fugitive problem tomorrow."

"Sleepover!" Elias celebrated. "Which one is your car?"

* * *

"Sorry again I didn't have anything you could wear," Jon muttered as he parked his car in the Institute's car park the next morning.

"All good, bro," Elias said. "One time, I had to wear the same two things for like a month because I'd accidentally set my closet on fire."

Jon looked over at Elias, baffled. "…how—?" Jon started.

"I was making waffles."

"…in…your _closet_?"

"Yeah, dude, you should try it some time. _Especially_ when you're high. But just make sure, if you get a phone call, to unplug it or it'll set your closet on fire." Elias nodded matter-of-factly before turning and getting out of Jon's car, not leaving Jon much time to think about the new information he'd just learned.

By the time Jon had grabbed his crutches, gotten out of the car, gotten his messenger bag from the back seat, rested one of his crutches against his car so he could throw his messenger bag over his shoulder, grabbed his crutch again, and locked his car, Elias had disappeared around the corner to enter the Institute. A little panicked because, not wanting anyone to bump into Elias and _talk_ with him, Jon quickly turned the corner, only to find Elias waiting at the doors. He opened them for Jon as Jon approached at a less panicked pace.

"Good morning," Rosie greeted as they passed her desk.

"Morning, Rosie," Jon said, a little breathless.

"Elias, I picked this up from the dry-cleaners for you," Rosie said, holding up a fresh suit in the plastic sleeve they used to protect the clothes.

Jon and Elias paused and approached her desk. She handed the suit over to Elias.

"Thank you, Rosie," Jon said slowly. "That's…not normally your job, is it?"

"It's not," Rosie said. "But I do have access to his schedule. I noticed a note about dry-cleaning yesterday and…thought you might need it."

"Right." Jon nodded. Suspicious, but Jon was honestly too tired (and still in pain from last night's Scooby Doo chase) to really question it. Rosie didn't seem to be fishing for answers, so it wasn't a present problem they needed to address. Besides, Rosie was Rosie! She didn't really seem the type to, say, share secrets she shouldn't be.

"Oh, here," Elias reached up and took a mini rose he'd stuck in his jacket lapel and gave it to Rosie. "I got it from Jon's garden this morning."

Rosie took the rose. "That's very sweet, thank you." She looked at Jon. "And, Jon, you have a garden?"

"Oh, uh, it's a small thing," Jon said. "Just a small flower garden. I-it's nothing special."

"Well, thank you," Rosie said. "Both of you."

They both nodded and smiled at Rosie before heading down to the archives.

"I hate wearing suits," Elias muttered as they headed down the stairs. Jon glanced over at Elias in sympathy. "They remind me of court."

"That's okay, you don't need to—" Jon mumbled.

"And going to court," Elias continued.

"Really, it's okay—"

"And getting fined."

"Okay."

They'd entered the archives by that point. Sasha was there, with Leitner. They were talking quietly about something.

Jon stopped, tried to quell the tidal wave of rage he felt anytime he saw Leitner, and pointed to where the restrooms were with one of his crutches. "You can go change in there, Elias."

Elias nodded and headed off. Jon took a deep breath before entering the common workspace.

"Good morning, Sasha," he said, smiling, as he passed both of them, getting a little too close to Leitner and smacking him over the head with his messenger bag. Jon quickly turned to face Leitner, this time "accidentally" putting one of his crutches down on Leitner's foot.

Leitner shot up from his chair, pulling his foot away from Jon's crutch, and yelped as Jon took a step back and said, "Oh, good lord, my apologies. I…wasn't watching where I was going." He shrugged exaggeratedly as Leitner glared at him. "You know, I've only had these crutches for two months, I-I'm still getting used to using them. My balance is all off."

Leitner clearly didn't believe most of what Jon said. And, frankly, Jon didn't care.

"It's fine," Leitner said coldly, smoothing his hair down and stiffly sitting back down. Sasha was trying to glare at Jon but it was too easy to see the sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

Jon turned back to Sasha. "I'll be in my office. Will you let me know when Martin and Tim arrive. So we can…" He trailed off, not really sure what to call it.

Sasha nodded, hoping she wouldn't burst out laughing as she said, "Of course."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Daisy?" Basira asked as they walked around to the side of the Institute. Daisy was ahead, looking around.

"They're hiding him, Basira," Daisy replied as she walked up to a fire escape, jumped up easily, and pulled down the ladder. She turned to face Basira. "He's in there, and I know it. I'm going to find him _and_ Timothy Stoker—return the former to the hospital and arrest the latter." She turned back to the ladder and started to climb.

Basira followed after. "How do you know this?" she asked as they got up onto the first landing.

"I just do."

"Then you also know if they called _us_ in, it's not that simple?" Basira asked as they climbed higher.

"You know they always call Section Thirty-One officers in when it has anything to do with the Institute," Daisy shot back. Then she muttered, "They're lucky I don't just kill them," Daisy said.

"Daisy," Basira sighed.

"It was a joke."

It was easy work to get to the roof of the Institute. Then it was a short walk to the only door on the roof.

"We should split up," Daisy said as they got to the door. "You get Stoker, I'll take care of Bouchard." Without waiting for a response, Daisy grasped the doorknob and opened the door, only to find a figure standing at the top of the stairs that would lead down into the Institute.

"Hi, again," Rosie said with a smile.

* * *

_A few moments ago…_

Rosie picked up her phone and dialed Jon's office. "Hi, Jon," she said in her patented cheery voice when he picked up. " **Basira and Daisy are here, looking for Elias. They're currently heading for the roof.** I can go get them. Can you meet me at my desk in five minutes?"

Jon was quiet for a moment, trying to get over the shock of hearing 1) that two Section 31 officers were trying to sneak into the Institute and 2) the way Rosie had told him all that in such a casual tone.

" _Right, yes,_ " Jon finally managed. " _I-I'll meet you in five minutes._ "

Rosie hung up, put up her WILL BE BACK IN 5 MINUTES sign and headed for the stairwell to the roof.

Down in the archives, Jon grabbed his crutches and exited his office quickly, calling everyone to attention.

"We have a problem and five minutes to come up with a solution," Jon began.

"What's new?" Tim sighed, rolling his eyes.

Jon glared at him. "This is directly related to the decision _you_ made yesterday. Remember when I said the hospital was going to call in Scotland Yard?"

"I _told_ you, I didn't have much of a choice," Tim said.

"Jon, you said we had five minutes," Sasha interrupted. "Until the officers get here?"

"Yes," Jon said. "They're Section Thirty-One officers, so I _believe_ if we show that Elias is of sound mind, they'll just drop it. And convince the hospital to drop it as well."

"There's only one problem with your plan, boss," Tim said, turning in his chair to look at Elias, who had preoccupied himself on one of the computers. They all figured, until they could sit down and discuss everything with Leitner, it would just be easier to keep Elias with them, in sight. That way, he couldn't get into trouble and if trouble found him, well, at least they would be around.

Elias looked up from the screen when he felt everyone looking at him.

"Dudes, have you checked out Vine?" Elias asked then gasped. "Oh! You guys should make a Vine account for the archives!"

"We'll just…have to coach him," Jon said, though he didn't sound confident. He went over to Elias and pulled up a chair, resting his crutches against the desk next to them. "Elias, some police officers are coming to visit the archives. Do you remember when Leitner said you were possessed by Jonah?"

"I guess," Elias replied with an unenthusiastic shrug.

"Good enough. We need you to act like Jonah, just until the officers leave," Jon said. "Can you do that? We can help you with how you need to act."

Elias nodded. "In secondary school, I took an acting class," he began.

"No, Elias, we don't have time—" Jon tried, to no avail.

"But in the first week, I accidentally set the curtains on fire with a cigarette, so they kicked me out of that class."

"Elias, please—"

Elias continued, "I had to take painting instead. But some of the materials they used were really flammable. So I was kicked out of that class, too."

Jon shook his head. "What is it with you and fire?"

"So was that a yes or…?" Martin asked.

"Elias," Jon said, trying to get him to refocus. "We need you to act like Jonah, okay? Just for a little while."

Elias nodded. "I got you, homie."

"Wh-which means you can't use…the words you usually use," Jon said. "Like, 'dude' and 'bro' and 'homie.'" The rest of the archival staff snickered hearing Jon say those words.

"Oh, word?" Elias asked.

"Like that, y-you can't say those things to these officers, okay?" Jon continued. "T-try talking like me. Like I do."

Elias perked up. "Oh, like use big words?" He sat up straighter. "The mitochondria are the power house of the cell. Photosynthesis is the process by which—"

"Okay, s-stop," Jon said quickly. "We're going to get caught." This time the archival staff couldn't hold back their laughter. Jon sat back and sighed, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed his eyes. Elias remained oblivious to the situation he was currently in and lowkey thought they were laughing at his sick meme reference.

"How about this," Jon said slowly, readjusting his glasses. "You _act_ like me but keep talking to a minimum. If you must talk, keep it short. If they ask you a question, answer. But keep it short. Okay?"

Elias nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Jon returned his thumbs-up but it was half-hearted. He then turned to the rest of the archival staff, "Can you keep coaching him? I have to go meet Rosie upstairs."

"What? Coach how he's supposed to talk?" Tim asked. "Because that went over well, did it?"

"I don't have time to argue, Tim," Jon snapped as he grabbed his crutches, stood, and heading to the stairs that would lead up to the ground floor. "Make cue cards if you have to," he threw over his shoulder before turning the corner.

Meanwhile, Rosie was up on the roof with Basira and Daisy, who were staring at her in shock.

"Elias has a free moment right now, if you'd like to go see him," Rosie said.

Basira and Daisy looked at each other and had a quick, silent conversation.

Then Basira looked back at Rosie and gestured to the stairs behind her. "Lead the way."

"Great!" Rosie turned and headed back down the stairs. Basira and Daisy shared another glance before following her down.

Half-way down Rosie spoke again, "He's visiting the archival staff, currently. I asked him about what you told me yesterday and he told me it was all a big misunderstanding."

"Right." Daisy said dryly.

The rest of the walk was silent. When they got back to Rosie's desk, Jon was waiting for them. He gave them a genial smile, hoping the tension didn't show.

"Officers," he greeted. "It's nice to see you again."

"Rosie said Mr. Bouchard was down in the archives?" Basira asked, eyeing Jon suspiciously.

Jon nodded. "He is."

"And Mr. Stoker?" Daisy asked.

"Also downstairs," Jon confirmed before turning to Rosie. "Thank you, Rosie."

"Of course," Rosie said as she sat down behind her desk again, taking the WILL BE BACK IN 5 MINUTES sign.

Jon then turned and led Basira and Daisy into the archives.

* * *

Jon held his breath as he turned the corner that would lead into the common workspace, hoping the others had managed to wrangle in Elias's…everything. To his brief relief, it looked normal. Sasha and Leitner had gone off into the stacks. It looked like Tim was conversing with Elias. Martin was at his desk, scribbling something onto a notepad in permanent marker. (That one was a little weird.)

"Elias Bouchard?" Basira called. Jon stepped aside and let Basira and Daisy approach Elias—who turned to face them—and Tim.

Elias nodded. "That would be me," he answered. "What…can I help you with, officers?"

Jon let out a small breath. Sounded okay.

Martin sidled up next to Jon, holding the notepad he'd been scribbling on to his chest, hidden behind a folder full of papers.

"I think you know why we're here," Basira continued. "You were in hospital yesterday. Do you remember that the doctors telling you they were going to hold you under the Mental Health Act?"

Elias nodded again before his eyes flickered over to where Martin and Jon stood. "I'm afraid…this has been one big…misunderstanding."

Daisy's eyebrows furrowed and she turned her head to glance behind her at Jon and Martin, who quickly turned and pressed the notepad to his chest. She narrowed her eyes at them before turning back to face Elias and Tim.

Jon glanced down at the notepad. "What are you doing, Martin?" he whispered.

"Cue cards," Martin whispered back, turning the notepad for Elias to see again.

"As you can see, I am perfectly"—Elias squinted, trying to read the last word—"find—fine!" Elias said before smiling at Basira and Daisy, who both turned to see what Elias had been looking at but Martin had already pressed the cue cards against his chest once again. They stared at Martin and Jon for a long moment.

"Need something?" Martin asked innocently.

Basira and Daisy turned back to Elias.

Jon slowly bowing his head as he did so and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to press his fingertips to his forehead, as that would cause him to lose his balance. "I was being sarcastic," he hissed.

"Well, we couldn't tell and we were running out of better options, anyway," Martin hissed back.

Jon lifted his head and shrugged. "We're going to get caught."

"Think positive."

"What year is it?" Daisy asked.

"Twenty-sixteen," Elias answered easily.

"How old are you?"

"Forty-eight."

"Why did you freak out in the hospital?" Basira asked. "The doctor told us you weren't suffering from a concussion."

Elias's eyes flickered up to Martin, who started to turn the notepad again but Daisy turned to look, forcing Martin to keep the notepad pressed to his chest. She watched him with narrowed eyes as Elias looked back at Basira with a smile.

Jon, Tim, and Martin held their breaths.

 _Oh, fuck,_ they collectively thought.

"I fell down the stairs, du—officer," Elias finally said. "Can't really blame a home—person, a person for being confused afterward."

Daisy slowly turned to face Elias again. "Hm." She stared at him for a long time. Elias held her gaze, if only because of his absolute obliviousness. "Seems fine to me," Daisy finally commented.

Elias smiled and nodded again. "If you'll excuse me now." He stepped passed Basira and Daisy, giving Martin and Jon two discreet thumbs-up and grinning. Martin and Jon tried to smile encouragingly back without breaking cover.

"Where is he going?" Jon whispered.

"Just the men's, don't worry," Martin muttered back.

Basira and Daisy looked at Tim, then.

"Guess this means you're off the hook, too, Stoker," Daisy said in a very unamused tone.

"And lucky for it, I'm sure," Tim said, shooting her one of his charming smiles.

Daisy snorted and turned to leave.

"You go on ahead," Basira said, looking at Jon. "I'd like to speak with Jon for a moment."

Daisy brushed past Jon and Martin, throwing a lazy wave over her shoulder at Basira. "Sure, whatever. I'll be out in the car."

"Jon," Basira said, gesturing to his office.

"Right." Jon quickly went to his office door and unlocked it—having to lean against the doorframe to do so without falling—inviting Basira inside. Jon took a seat behind his desk, resting his crutches in the corner behind him, and Basira sat down in one the chairs on the other side.

"What was that all about?" Basira asked.

Jon sighed. "Long story. I don't even understand most of it myself."

Basira crossed her arms. "And you're not going to tell me?"

"It would only complicate things, I think. For right now. No one's life is in danger, or anything. Strictly Institute business."

Basira's expression was unconvinced but she let it drop. "Then, maybe, next time, don't kidnap anyone from the hospital."

Jon forced a small laugh. "Yes, of course."

Basira stood. "Well, anyway, I brought one of Gertrude's tapes for you." Basira took the tape from her pocket and set it on Jon's desk. "Good a time as any."

"Thank you, Basira," Jon said.

"Just don't expect me to bail you out if shit hits the fan," Basira responded. "There's only so much I can do. You're lucky this one will blow over so easily."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **me:** *puts in a harmless little scene about flowers and flower gardens*  
>  **me:** *listens to ep 171*  
>  **me:**  
>   
>  **me:** well. shit.  
>  **me:** *shrugs and leaves in scene anyway*
> 
> Also, if you watch _The Good Place_ , yes Himbo OG Elias is heavily based off of and influenced by their resident himbo, Jason Mendoza. I also used a little bit of his lines (regarding not liking suits) and was inspired by a scene from the show for the scene when Jon's trying to coach Elias.
> 
> Also, also, we're hitting the point where I have to sit down and plan more specific story beats now, so chapter updates will slow down. Expect another chapter this Thursday, but after that *idk noises*
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/622928027260780544/chapter-5-a-big-misunderstanding)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	6. The Last-Minute Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are not immune to exposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warning:** near the end of the chapter, some angst, expressions of anger that lead to mild physical violence (but NO hitting), alluded threats of physical violence
> 
> Also, sorry ~~not sorry~~! Exposition can't be avoided, I'm afraid. But I skipped over most of the stuff we already know, and added a lil twist to the stuff I kept in (or tried to, anyway lol).

Martin let out a big breath. "Wow, that was…"

"A lot?" Tim provided.

The archival staff, Elias, and Leitner all sat in a circle, in the archives. Although they had just evaded the police, a charge for kidnapping, and a charge for being accessories and abettors, there was no rest for the weary. Leitner had just finished explaining…well, a lot. (Mostly just the fourteen fears, to begin with, and how Smirke was related. As well as a little bit about the Institute and the role of Head Archivist, and how that was all related to the Eye. Leitner wanted to start slow; build up some sort of scaffolding, so to speak, to help the rest of them understand everything that came after.)

"So we're now 'owned' by the…Eye, too?" Tim asked. "We don't even get a choice in the matter?"

"Not exactly, no," Leitner said. "Once you signed the contract Jonah presented to you, you worked for the Eye. This is _his_ institute, it feeds the Eye. And whoever works here does, too."

"I still don't think I fully understand what the Archivist is," Jon said. "Or does?"

"I think there are some tapes you should listen to," Leitner said. "As far as I know, Jonah took them after he killed Gertrude. They're probably in his office."

"I guess we go up to his office, then," Jon said.

"Field trip!" Elias, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet throughout, shouted excitedly, jumping up from where he'd sat down.

…

"I know Elias shouted 'field trip' excitedly," Jon started, "but I didn't think that was an invitation for _everyone_ to come up to his office. Someone should've stayed behind."

"Then _you_ go back downstairs," Tim said. "Archivist."

Jon sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything more about it. He wanted to be there just as much as everyone else, after all.

"We left a note," Martin said. "It's not like people routinely go down into the basement anyway."

"Besides, I wouldn't miss rummaging through Jonah's things for the world," Sasha chimed in.

"Door's locked," Elias said, turning to face everyone.

"…do you have the keys?" Jon asked. "They should've still been on your person after Jonah was purged from your body."

Elias patted his pockets—thinking back to when he'd found keys in his trouser pockets only to promptly drop them down the drain in the men's—before giving everyone a big, toothy grin. "I lost them."

"Okay," Martin started slowly. "So, now what?"

"Does anyone know how to pick a lock?" Tim asked.

"There must be a spare set of keys somewhere," Jon said.

Sasha snorted. "Step aside, boys," she said, pushing her way to the door. Elias quickly jumped out of her way as she delivered a swift and concise kick next to the door knob. The door flew open, the sound of wood splitting filling the hallway, followed by the door banging into the wall.

"Oh, dip," Elias mumbled before double hi-fiving Sasha. "That was rad, dude!"

Sasha smiled and gave a half-bow. "Thank you."

"You know we'll have to get that fixed," Jon said, ever the realist. "A broken lock like that is going to be too suspicious."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get there," Tim said as he brushed past Jon and stepped into Jonah's office.

The rest of them followed suit, crowding into Jonah's office, in search for tapes. Among other things.

After about minute two of getting side-tracked with a bunch of Jonah's personal things, Jon had given up trying to police everyone. It wasn't like he cared much for Jonah, anyway, so why worry about his belongings?

At minute five, however, Jon and Sasha looked up from what they were searching through and hissed, " **Someone's coming!** "

"Hide!" Jon added.

Tim and Sasha ducked behind Elias's desk, tucking their legs close to their chests. Martin and Leitner slid in behind the door. Elias tried to begin to hide behind a plant but Jon stopped him by holding out one of his crutches in front of Elias, nearly losing his balance in the process.

"This is your office, remember," Jon muttered, lowering his crutch, as the new person appeared from around the corner.

Elias relaxed. "Oh, yeah!" He stepped away from the plant.

"Oh!" they exclaimed, when they saw Elias and Jon. They were from the research department—Avery. "Elias…" they started, as they approached, slowly their pace as they got closer. "You don't usually have your door open." Jon glanced at the broken lock and quickly kicked the splintered wood piece under Elias's desk with one of his crutches, hoping Avery wouldn't notice the splintered wood on the doorframe.

"That's because I was just arriving," Jon said quickly. "We had a meeting scheduled."

The person turned to Jon with a strained smile. "Jack, is it?"

"Jon," Jon corrected.

"Funny, I just checked with Rosie," Avery said. "She told me Elias's schedule was clear during this hour."

"Oh…uh, it was a…last-minute thing. You know how it goes," Jon said.

Avery paused. "A last-minute," they started, "scheduled meeting?"

 _Oops._ "…yep."

Behind the desk, Tim facepalmed and looked over at Sasha, who shook her head and shrugged helplessly.

Avery turned toward Elias, then. "I was wondering if I could just have a quick word with you."

"Uhhhhhh," Elias said, eyes flickering to Jon.

"Now's probably not the best time," Jon quickly interjected. "I still need to talk to him about…about that last-minute thing."

Martin buried his face in his hands and Tim tried not to bang the back of his head into Elias's desk out of frustration.

"I think Elias can speak for himself, but thanks anyway," Avery responded.

"He's right, du—" Elias started but Jon cleared his throat loudly and Elias tried to correct, "Du-d-d-definitely, now is not a good time. We…still gotta talk about that thing."

Avery regarded them with narrowed eyes. "Right. The _thing_. The last-minute thing you scheduled."

"Yep." Elias nodded, looking over at Jon.

"Sounds about right," Jon said, nodding and looking over at Elias.

They both looked back at Avery as Avery opened their mouth to say something else but Rosie came to the rescue.

"Avery?" she asked as she approached the three of them. "I apologize, I was looking at the wrong day on Elias's calendar. Will you come back downstairs with me? I can make an appointment for you so a mix-up like this doesn't happen again."

Avery didn't look convinced but Rosie was always good at persuading people with just a smile.

"Okay," they finally said, giving Jon and Elias a side-eye before looking back at Rosie and smiling. "Thank you."

"Great," Rosie said. They both turned to head back down the hall, but Rosie half-turned to look back at Elias and Jon. "I apologize, Elias. It won't happen again."

"No problem, homie," Elias said. Jon elbowed him in the ribs, again at the risk of falling. "I mean, Rosie," Elias corrected, wincing and rubbing the spot Jon had jabbed him in as Avery looked back at them over their shoulder, eyes narrowed.

"Bye, Avery," Jon called. Avery rolled their eyes and scoffed before facing forward and continuing down the hall with Rosie, muttering to her, "I swear, Elias favors the archival staff for no good reason." Rosie reached up and patted their shoulder in sympathy.

Everyone let out a collective breath once Rosie and Avery had disappeared from sight, and all came out from hiding.

"We need to work on your improv skills, boss," Sasha said.

Jon stared down the hall. "Right." He sighed before using his crutch to close the door.

They got back to searching. It wasn't too long before they found one box of tapes, but Jon had a feeling there was more. And that box of tapes was slightly—but _only_ slightly—harder to get to, seeing as it was locked inside a safe. Jonah had been a cautious person—it was equipped with fingerprint recognition, voice recognition, and code. Unfortunately, for him, he'd stolen someone else's fingerprints and voice. The code wasn't much of a problem now that they'd gotten Sasha back.

She sat in Elias's office chair, spinning around, behind his desk and looked at all of Jonah's possessions; analyzing them like Sherlock Holmes. After a few minutes of contemplation, she jumped up and typed something into the keypad. The lock clicked and the light turned green.

Sasha opened up the door and looked inside before smiling and reaching in to grab a small box. She brandished it triumphantly and said, "Looks like we found the rest of them."

"Couldn't you have just…used your Eye powers, or something?" Tim asked.

"It doesn't exactly work like that," Sasha said, standing up. "And besides, where's the fun in that?"

She had a point.

They headed back down to the archives, gathering in a circle again. Jon sat near a desk so he could set the tape recorder on it. Tim, who was sat next to him, on the left, had been rummaging through the boxes while they'd waited for Jon to retrieve the tape recorder from his office.

Tim held out one of the tapes as Jon sat down, letting his crutches rest against the back of his chair, off to one side.

"I think you should play this one first, boss," Tim said, grinning. Jon took the tape and looked to see if there was a title for it. Jonah being Jonah had labeled it with "Birthday"—even an evil mastermind had their guilty pleasures. In Jonah's case it was the type of organization only a bureaucrat could love, even be envious of.

Jon scoffed. "No, that's really not important right now."

Tim took the tape back, handing Jon a different tape that was labeled "Gertrude's Warning" and rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're no fun."

Elias's hand shot up. Jon stared at him for a long moment, hoping Elias would take the hint but when it was clear he wasn't going to, Jon said, "Y-yes, Elias?"

"What's the tape of?" Elias asked.

"It doesn't matter—" Jon tried but Tim interrupted him.

"Jon's birthday celebration," he said. "Here, in the archives."

Elias perked up at that. "Birthday?"

"Oh, the party we threw for him a little while after he was appointed head archivist?" Martin asked.

Tim nodded. "That's the one!"

"Oh, I'd love to listen to that again," Sasha said.

"Can we listen to it after?" Elias asked, looking to Jon again.

Jon tried to say 'no,' embarrassment flooding through him, but Elias's bright, golden retriever-like expression was hard to say 'no' to. "Fine, but after _everything_ —including any more questions we may have."

Elias nodded enthusiastically. It was still a little bit too weird seeing him act so different than they were used to. At least he wasn't as insufferable as Jonah had been. The exact opposite, really.

Jon turned back to the tape recorder, putting the tape inside and hitting PLAY. It was from Gertrude, which made sense, and was one of those "If you're hearing/watching this, that means I'm dead" tapes/videos. Jon slowly sat down, like the gravity of Gertrude's voice was physically weighing on him.

" _Hopefully, this means you, Sasha, but if someone else is hearing this, and Elias has made a different choice for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you._ "

"Oh, I knew it!" Tim whispered harshly. He almost shot a glare at Elias but then remembered it'd really been Jonah who'd made the decision.

When the tape ended, they all sat in silence. Leitner waited for them to digest the information, as it was a lot to take in in such a short time, on top of what he'd already told them. Even though most of what Gertrude had said was almost like a summary of what they'd just learned—the rituals aspect was new, though.

When Jon finally looked up at Leitner, he said, "I assume you have questions."

* * *

Jon shook his head, shrugging, his eyebrows furrowed, gears in his head turning. "I still don't…Gertrude mentioned that Elia—Jonah had plans for the Archivist."

"Yes, but as she said, she was unsure of what those plans were. Or are. Unfortunately, nor do I," Leitner said. "The best we could sus out was that the Archivist is most likely needed for the Eye's ritual, something I am sure Jonah was working toward." Leitner made at face at that, and Jon logged that as something he would ask about later. "With this new curveball—being thrown from Elias's body—I have no idea what has happened to Jonah." He paused. "Being Archivist, as I mentioned yesterday, also affords you certain abilities of Knowing and Seeing things, seeing inside people's minds, in a manner of speaking, and a small amount of compulsion."

"Compulsion?" Jon asked warily, shifting in his chair…which caused his crutches to become dislodged and clatter to the ground. Jon let out a frustrated sigh as the others shifted, leaning toward Jon. Jon held up a hand and snapped, "It's fine." before reaching down to grab his crutches and rest them against the desk, frowning when he remembered he'd need to buy new ones soon. Finally, he turned back to the group and gestured for Leitner to continued.

Leitner nodded. "Compulsion: Pulling statements from people. Have you ever noticed how eloquent your statement-givers are when you record them directly? It's partly your powers, partly due to the Eye, wanting the most and best information. You can, of course, also pull…other information from people. Either by asking them or simply Knowing."

"So, this also means I'm…an avatar?" Jon asked.

"Not quite." This time it was Sasha who spoke. "Not yet, anyway. Not fully. As you evolve into the role of Archivist, the more and more you'll become…well, less human, I suppose you could say, and more avatar." She paused. "Me, however, I would be considered an avatar."

Tim sat up straighter and looked at Sasha with an intense, what could only be described as, concern. "You said less human? You're not…human anymore?"

Sasha gave him a sheepish look. "To put it simply, yes. When I first got…taken, I had to navigate my way through the maze without being killed, which is a near impossible task as a human. I'm honestly surprised I made it as long as I did." Sasha paused.

"You don't have to tell us," Jon said quietly. "Not if you don't want to."

Sasha smiled at him sadly. "No, it's alright." She paused again and swallowed hard. "When I was faced with death, the Eye gave me an option: I could either die there or become an avatar and survive longer, with Eye powers included." Sasha shrugged. "I guess you can tell which I chose. I'm still _me_ , in a sense. I'm just…not human, anymore."

"That's how you were able to get rid of the NotThem," Jon said, remembering those line of glowing eyes going down her neck. He briefly wondered if he'd look like that once his "transformation" was complete.

"Yes," Sasha confirmed.

"Is that what you meant by 'Eye buddies'?" Jon asked.

Sasha laughed. "Yes. Technically we all serve the Eye now, but it's a little different as avatars."

* * *

"Elias," Tim said. "You've been awfully quiet."

Elias's eyes focused in on Tim and widened in panic. "Is there going to be a test?" He leaned toward Jon, then, and whispered, "Can I copy your notes, bro?"

"There's no test," Jon sighed.

Elias sat back and let out a relieved sigh. "Good because I didn't understand most of it."

"Well," Jon said slowly. "Y-you'll still have to know this information. To an extent."

"Oh, man!" Elias's shoulders slumped before he looked up at Jon hopefully. "Can I still copy your notes?"

Jon took a deep, slow breath in before smiling pleasantly at Elias. "Sure."

"Wait, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Martin asked.

Jon looked over at Martin. "Well, based on what Leitner just told us, I think the best and safest option for us is to keep things business as usual," Jon said. "If the avatars of these entities are going to come after us and the Institute, finding out that one of the Eye's most powerful avatars has disappeared, essentially, is a glaring vulnerability. If we can keep up the ruse that Jonah is still possessing Elias, it'll give us time to…plan."

"Plan what, exactly?" Tim asked.

"I'm working on it," Jon muttered.

"So we have to run the Institute _and_ deal with all this fourteen fears bullshit?" Tim asked.

"I don't know, I think we could do it," Sasha said, shrugging.

"Even with…" Tim gestured to Elias, who grinned and waved at him.

"I…I-I agree," Martin said. "We should go for it. We did okay with the officers today. And Avery. We…we probably want to work on your improv skills, though." He glanced at Jon and Elias.

Tim thought about it with a frown before he shrugged and said, "I guess I'm in, too. It's not like I could _quit_ , anyway."

"Awesome!" Elias exclaimed, looking around at everyone. "What exactly are we doing?"

Jon rested his hand on Elias's shoulder to try and focus him. "We need you to act like Jonah," he said slowly. "Not all the time. Just when the situation calls for it."

"Calls for what?" Elias asked.

Jon paused and tried not to sigh heavily. The others snickered (except Leitner, who watched with a distant interest).

"When a certain situation needs you to act like Jonah, we will need you to act like Jonah," Jon said.

Elias nodded seriously. Well, as seriously as you'd expect him to take anything. "Okay, and how do I act like him?"

"Well, as I said before, you'll probably want to know and remember more of the information we just discussed."

Elias looked at Jon, dismayed. "Word?"

Jon pulled away from Elias then and sat back. "I don't…I don't know what that means."

"I got this, boss," Tim said, sitting forward. He met Elias's eyes and said in a very serious tone, "Word."

"Oh, man!" Elias sat back and crossed his arms, pouting. "I don't know what 'avatar' means! Everything wants to eat you." He sighed. "I'm still _old_."

Before anyone could respond, Jon threw his arms up. "That's all I had to say? 'Word'?"

"You have to say it in a specific way," Sasha said.

"With a specific tone," Tim added.

"…but what does it _mean_?" Jon asked.

"It's like another way to say, 'oh, really?' or 'really?'" Martin said.

Jon shook his head in exasperation. "Then why not just say that?"

"I think we're getting a little off topic," Leitner interjected, then turned to Elias. "I agree with Jon's plan."

Jon made a face. "Ew, don't agree with me," he muttered.

Leitner ignored him. "Until we can figure out what to do—"

"Great, now he's part of the team, is he?" Jon muttered.

Leitner ignored him again, "—keeping up appearances will keep the Institute, and everyone who works here, safe."

Tim snorted. Martin repeated "safe" in an incredulous voice. Sasha made an expression of doubt. And Jon murmured, "I don't think you know the meaning of that word." quickly and quietly under his breath.

"As safe as it normally is," Leitner edited. "Which is considerably safer than if the other fear avatars knew the Institute was vulnerable right now."

"So," Elias started. "To keep my buds safe…"

Leitner nodded. "Yes, you must act like Jonah when the situation needs you to."

Elias nodded and turned to face the others, though he still looked less than enthusiastic. "I got your backs, homies. I won't let you down."

"Alright," Jon sighed and looked at Leitner. "What do you propose, then?" he asked in an annoyed tone.

"There might be letters," Leitner started, "written by Jonah that Elias can read. To get a feel for what Jonah was like. And, of course, he can listen to the tapes. Many of the tapes Jonah had hidden away are from Gertrude and are about the research she was doing about the rituals. Then there are the tapes of statement-givers, to give him a better idea of the fears and their avatars."

Elias groaned. "There's gonna be homework?"

"You're going to have to keep wearing suits, too," Jon added.

Elias let out a cry of despair and threw his arms up while simultaneously throwing himself back in his chair. The archival assistants tried to stifle their laughter at Elias's reaction. Jon even had to remind himself not to start laughing (or to show any sign of amusement, really; it was still early season 2, and even though Jon is no longer paranoid out of his skull, he's still a bit of a stick in the mud and wanting to keep up his Serious Boss-Man in Academia Appearance™ around the others).

* * *

At some point during the Q&A, of sorts, Tim began rummaging through the other tapes contained in the boxes, idly reading the titles Jonah had given them. It wasn't until he came across a tape that was labeled "Circus" did he freeze. His breath caught. His ears began ringing. In his mind's eye he could see his brother, on the stage. He felt frozen, like stone, like the audience in that _horrid_ theater.

"..im!" someone's voice floated toward him, but it sounded distant. He felt pressure against his shoulder but that also felt far away. Something entered his vision, a blurry figure, vaguely human-shaped.

At first Tim felt panic hit him, drop on him like an anvil and then melt into his veins, cold like ice water.

"Tim!" they shouted again, gripping his shoulder harder. This jolted him and his vision cleared, snapping back into clarity so fast his head hurt.

Sasha was kneeling in front of him, worried etched all over her face. She was gripping his shoulders to the point of pain but released her grip when Tim's eyes focused in on her. Her hands slid down his arms, taking his hands—now sitting limply in his lap—into hers and gently squeezing. She gave him a reassuring smile, but worry still creased her brow.

Tim blinked and sat up a little straighter, keeping his hands in Sasha's, and looked around. Everyone was still sitting in the circle they'd made. Jon, Martin, and Elias were looking at him with the same worry Sasha had. Leitner was looking at him with concern, as well, but Tim felt it wasn't _for_ him. No, it was concern for something else that had _to do_ with him…

_He's hiding something._

Tim stood abruptly, ripping his hands from Sasha's, and approached Leitner, who remained seated, gazing up at Tim with a surprisingly calm expression. Martin, Sasha, and Elias, all stood, and stepped forward to stop Tim, in case he lashed out. Jon wouldn't have been fast enough, what with having to grab his crutches first, and even if he was fast enough, he wouldn't have wanted to stop Tim.

"You said you were working with Gertrude for a few years?" Tim asked harshly. Leitner nodded. Tim spun around and went back to the box of tapes, snatching up the one labeled "Circus"—the one that'd fallen from his hand and alerted the others that something was wrong—and spun back around, waving the tape in Leitner's face. "Was Gertrude looking into the Circus? Are there more like these?"

"She was," Leitner said. "The Circus serves The Stranger. There are, I imagine, several tapes about the Stranger and her investigation into them." Leitner paused then and that concern returned.

"You're hiding something! Tell me!" Tim roared, taking another step closer to Leitner.

"Tim," Sasha tried but Tim flung his hand out to his side and cut her off.

Leitner gazed up at Tim, who now towered over Leitner. Still, he didn't seem particularly frightened. In fact, he seemed more resigned, than anything.

"I will tell you if you take your seat again," Leitner finally said.

Tim grabbed the front of Leitner's shirt and pulled Leitner to his feet. "And what if I say no?"

Leitner opened his mouth to respond but Sasha put a gentle hand on Tim's arm. Tim jerked his head around, ready to snap at her, but her expression cut him off. The longer he looked, the more he felt his anger settle. The red slowly faded from his vision. His anger, of course, was still there—coursing through his veins. But it was no longer clouding his mind, his thoughts.

With effort, and breathing heavily, Tim let go of Leitner, practically throwing him back into his chair. Then he spun around and took a seat in his own chair again, glaring over at Leitner, who was adjusting his shirt.

Slowly, the others sat down, except Martin had moved over to Sasha's seat so she could sit next to Tim.

"I'm afraid," Leitner started, "that the rituals are always doomed to fail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a quick reminder** , I've hit a point in the story where I need to plan more specific story-beats. So I most likely won't have an update for you next Monday. I'll try to get something done for y'all Thursday tho (esp. after what we learned in this week's ep *vibrating eyes emoji*), but no guarantees.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/623201896334802944/chapter-6-the-last-minute-thing)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	7. Some Kind of Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll be right back to your regularly scheduled program after this short exposition break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ~~not sorry~~ , it just couldn't be avoided! (I needed catharsis for Tim's stuff last chapter, too, so.) The good news is, we get back to form near the end _and_ I'll be posting another chapter later today :D
> 
>  **Content Warning:** More angry Tim (no physical violence), bit of angst (first half of the chapter); let me know if I need to add any others.

Leitner sighed and shifted in his seat as Tim waited impatiently, bouncing one of his legs and wringing his hands.

"It was something Gertrude had begun to suspect in the last few months of her life," Leitner finally began, "and what was confirmed…the night she died." He paused to let that sink in.

Tim bowed his head, running his hands through his hair, his head snapping back up as he glared at Leitner. "Cut the crap and just _tell_ us."

When he pulled his hands back to his lap, Sasha reached over and took one, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tim didn't seem to notice, too agitated.

"I'm sure you've encountered statements that reference The People's Church of the Divine Host," Leitner said, his voice still calm as ever. "They are a…cult, of sorts, that worship The Dark. The night that Gertrude died, she and I were planning on burning down the Institute."—This time, Leitner didn't pause, though he could see the shock on all their faces. Even, Tim's. Though his was masked heavily by his anger, still—"Simultaneously, The Dark was holding their ritual to remake the world. As you know, Gertrude was the one who studied, found, and stopped the rituals. Or so she thought. With The Dark's most recent ritual, she was testing a theory—that she didn't actually need to do anything to stop them. As you can see, the world is still as it was, meaning the ritual didn't work, even though Gertrude did nothing to intervene."

Tim was still. Head bowed again. It didn't even look like he was breathing. His hand that Sasha still held was slack. No one dared move, waiting for Tim's reaction to this information, even if they didn't know _why_ he was having such a reaction. Except for Sasha, she knew. (But not Knew, just knew.)

Finally, Tim looked up. He looked like he wanted to say something but the words stuck in his throat. His eyes were rimmed red, brimming with tears. He pointed a finger at Leitner and opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed his mouth and bowed his head again.

Sasha squeezed his hand. "Tim?" she asked quietly.

Tim responded by standing up, pulling his hand from Sasha's, glaring down at Leitner. The others watched him carefully, in case he rushed Leitner.

When Tim spoke, his voice was a whisper, "You're saying…" He swallowed like he was swallowing his anger, tramping it down long enough to speak. "…my brother—" He broke off and looked away, shifting. His breathing was becoming more unsteady as the seconds passed. His head snapped back to Leitner, his voice still a harsh whisper, "For _nothing_!" Then he found his voice again, " _Nothing!_ " he shouted, stepping toward Leitner.

Sasha stood. "Tim!" She rested a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, giving Leitner one last glare before turning and storming off. Sasha watched him go before turning to face everyone else. "I'll go talk to him."

* * *

Martin shifted in his chair, looking at the exit for a moment, chewing his lip, before looking back at Jon. "Think we should…" he started, gesturing over his shoulder to where Tim and Sasha had just left.

Jon shook his head. "Sasha's his friend, so she should be able to help. We'd probably just make it worse, crowding him like that. We should give him space and time to calm down."

Martin nodded but shifted again in his chair, wanting to help but knowing Jon was right.

A few moments of silence passed, then, "Jon," Leitner said. "You look pensive."

"Oh, don't mind that," Martin said off-handedly. "He always looks like that."

Jon straightened up in his chair indignantly. "Martin!"

Martin jolted, blushed, and raised a hand to his mouth, realizing he hadn't filtered his thoughts. For his part, he had the decency to look ashamed. But when Elias held his hand out for a low-five, Martin obliged with his free hand.

"Don't hi-five that!" Jon exclaimed, looking back and forth between Martin and Elias.

"He's right, dude," Elias responded, not looking ashamed at all. "You need to lighten up a little."

Martin snickered from behind his hand, which was still covering his mouth.

Jon opened his mouth to respond but Leitner interrupted.

"Jon," he said. "I'm assuming you had a question? About the rituals?"

Jon huffed and sat back, crossing his arms, his shoulders hunching a little. Would he call it pouting? No way in hell. (But, as the narrator, I can most definitely confirm he was, indeed, pouting.) After a moment of glaring at Martin and Elias, he turned back toward Leitner (begrudgingly).

"Earlier," Jon started, "when you were talking about the Archivist's role in the Eye's ritual you…made a face. Does the fact that the rituals always fail, with or without intervention, have anything to do with that?"

Leitner nodded. "Yes."

Jon frowned when Leitner didn't elaborate. "So then why would Jonah need the Archivist? If the rituals fail, why would he even attempt a ritual at all. Surely being part of The Eye, the one fear that's supposed to know _everything_ , would have informed him that the ritual wouldn't work."

"Unfortunately, that is something that Gertrude and I could not work out." Leitner furrowed his brow. "It is also why Gertrude felt the need to warn the next Archivist when Jonah asked something of you; most likely it was to fulfill some ulterior motive of his. We suspected, but never confirmed, that it _might_ have to do with The Eye's ritual. Most likely, it is—or was—something else, considering that I now know the rituals don't work."

* * *

When Sasha finally found Tim, he was on the roof, screaming his lungs out. When he was finished, he fell to his knees, curling in on himself, arms tightly wrapped around his middle like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

"Tim," Sasha called as she slowly approached him. Tim didn't respond but her call had more so been to alert him she was there. "I'm coming over to you," she said, keeping her pace slow.

When she reached him, Sasha laid a gentle hand on Tim's shoulder. He didn't move, didn't even flinch. She gently rubbed the back of his shoulder, kneeling down next to him. They moved in sync—Sasha pulled Tim into her arms as he turned toward her, seeking comfort. He was crying now, low and guttural, his throat sore from screaming.

After all of Tim's tears dried up, he let out a big, shaky sigh, but stayed where he was. Sasha gently played with the hair at the base of his head. After a few minutes, Tim finally pulled away, sitting back and reaching up to quickly scrub at the tear stains running down his cheeks.

Sasha shifted, so she could sit next to him, their shoulders brushing. When Tim had finished rubbing at his eyes, he rested his head on Sasha's shoulder. Together, they listened to the sound of the city around them.

"Gonna have a fun time explaining all that to everyone else," Tim mumbled, his voice still hoarse.

"I'm sure they'll understand," Sasha said. "But you also don't have to tell them anything if you don't want to."

Tim was quiet before he snorted. "Make a statement into that archaic tape recorder."

Sasha gave a quiet laugh.

Tim sighed. "I wish I could just quit," he mumbled. Then, even quieter, "I wish we could all quit."

Sasha sighed in agreement. "You'll probably want to record it with Martin, though."

"Oh?"

"Jon and I are avatars," Sasha explained. "The Eye, like the other fears, feeds itself with other people's fear through us. That's the purpose of an avatar. We sustain ourselves by feeding the fear we've become an avatar for. And the Eye has a special way of continually feeding on others' fears. Even after they've given a statement."

Tim pulled away from Sasha, then, so he could look at her.

"You sustain yourself by feeding the Eye?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Sasha smiled sadly, reaching over to take one of Tim's hands. "I'll be okay." She squeezed his hand. "I have you." She paused. Then, "And the others."

Tim scoffed at her last comment and rolled his eyes but smiled at Sasha, who smiled back, squeezing his hand again.

* * *

When Tim and Sasha returned to the archives, Jon, Martin, and Leitner were still sat in the circle they had made, having a discussion about the tunnels under the Institute. Elias was exploring the internet on one of the computers in the common workspace, squinting at the screen. When Tim and Sasha appeared, all four looked over at them.

"…are you okay?" Martin asked.

Tim nodded. "For the most part, but I am taking the rest of the day off," he said. Jon opened his mouth to say something but Tim glared at him. "I don't think anyone has a problem with that?"

"I wasn't going to disagree," Jon said holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

Tim gave him a suspicious look. "No?"

"…there's one more thing we need to discuss," Jon said slowly. Tim waited, glaring a hole into Jon's skull, not in the mood. "Remember those tapes that were with Gertrude's body? The ones the police took? Well, I-I…may have convinced Basira—one of the officers from yesterday—to allow me access to those tapes."

Tim was silent for a moment, his anger returning. He shifted, agitated. "And when, exactly, were you going to tell us?"

Jon tried to keep his tone neutral. "I didn't know who I could trust—"

"You didn't think you could trust us?" Tim interrupted. "Even after what happened with Jane Prentiss? We all went through the same thing, remember?"

"Gertrude was murdered," Jon snapped, sitting up straighter and facing Tim more fully. "She was the previous head archivist. I was afraid—"

"What? That you were next? Some kind of conspiracy to kill off each new head archivist?"

"Well, you can't blame me for being a little paranoid!" Tim started to say something but Jon continued, not letting him get in another word, "Look, the point is, I'm telling you all now, okay? Take it a-as a show of faith. That I _do_ trust you now."

Tim continued to glare at Jon but it wasn't as strong as before. Finally, "Anything interesting on them?"

Jon nodded slowly. "She mentions a circus. Most likely the circus that belongs to The Stranger. I think she was investigating it. I don't know why, yet. Basira can only give me one tape at a time, and only every few weeks or so." Tim opened his mouth but Jon once again didn't let him speak. " _If you would like_ , you can listen to them with me. I'm opening this up to everyone else, as well."

Tim took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay. I guess I'll see you all…tomorrow."

Sasha stopped him at the exit, speaking quietly, "You'll be okay by yourself?"

Tim gave her a small smile. "I will. Thanks."

"Okay, well, text me every hour," she said. "I'll come visit you when the Institute closes up."

"Alright, alright, I promise," Tim said in a slightly joking tone. Sasha scoffed, rolled her eyes, and playfully shoved his shoulder.

Tim pulled her into a hug, then. "Thanks, Sasha."

Sasha wrapped her arms around Tim's middle tightly. "Of course, Tim."

* * *

Jon took a deep breath in. "Okay, one last thing for today," he said as he let out the breath. "What are we doing to do about _him_?" He gestured to Leitner, only addressing Sasha and Martin.

Martin shrugged and made a face. "Well, it…sounds like he's officially become part of the team."

Sasha gave Jon an apologetic look and nodded. "I'm going to have to agree, unfortunately. He could really help us."

"With what?" Jon asked. "He may know more but he doesn't know what Jonah was up to."

"I am still here, you know," Leitner chimed in.

Jon glared at him. "I'm aware."

"You were talking about the tunnels when Tim and I came back," Sasha said, pulling Jon's attention back to her.

"Yes, how he's been living in the tunnels," Jon said. "And how he manipulates them." Jon shot Leitner another glare.

"You know, Jon," Leitner started. "Gertrude and I were finding and destroying my books. I'm sure she has records of it somewhere. Perhaps on her laptop. If you can find it. As you probably know, she was…secretive."

Jon shrugged exaggeratedly before asking, "And why are you telling me this?" in a petulant tone, not even trying to mask his animosity. Or pettiness. ~~Jon, your time as a punk in uni is showing!~~

Leitner shifted in his seat. It was hard to annoy him these days, having been through everything he'd been through. But Jon's attitude toward him was, astonishingly, managing it.

"Because alongside keeping up pretenses here at the Institute, we"—Jon scoffed and muttered, "There's that 'we' again."—"can continue what she started. Finding more of my books and destroying them."

"And…you'd just agree to it?" Jon asked. "Just like that? Finding and destroying books **you spent a lifetime trying to contain in your pathetic attempt to control something you should never had tried to control in the first place?** "

Leitner sighed. "Jon—" he tried.

" _Don't_."

"I have learned from my mistakes," Leitner insisted. "I want to help. I was helping Gertrude, and I will help all of you. If you'll let me."

"Then why did you take _Black Beauty_?" Jon asked.

"Because destroying the book won't destroy the horse. We would need to return the horse back to the book and then destroy it."

"So we call animal control and…" Martin started in a half-joking tone.

"The book is marked by The Flesh," Leitner said. "The horse inside, as far as I can tell, is somehow modeled after Arion, from the Ancient Greek myths—a horse faster than the wind. So capturing it will be more difficult than animal control could handle."

"Is the horse still in the archives?" Martin asked.

"That, unfortunately, is something I do not know."

"So _if_ I, say, believe you, that you also want to find and destroy _your_ books," Jon started, "where would you stay? In the tunnels, still?"

"It's safest for me," Leitner said. "I don't mind it. Better than being dead."

There was a moment of silence before Jon snapped, "And we're just supposed to trust your word? Let you run back into the tunnels, _that you can manipulate_ , and trust that you have our best interests in mind?"

"I don't know what else I can say to convince you that I'm on your side, Jon," Leitner said, sounding exhausted. His gaze wandered, like he might find the answer somewhere in the archives. Then his gaze fell upon the tape recorder, still on the table behind Jon.

Leitner met Jon's eyes again. "What if I gave you a statement? As a start."

* * *

"Okay, so Elias is locked in his office, exploring the internet," Jon said as he sat down in one of the chairs in the circle they'd made and leaned his crutches up against his leg. The circle of chairs was becoming a sort of fixture in the common workspace now, since they had near-daily meetings. It was safe to say when they weren't doing archive things, like recording statements, doing research, following leads, or trying to organize the archives, they were sitting in a circle, discussing their current situation, as there was still a lot to work out. "That should give us time to figure out what our next steps are."

Yes, they had decided that Elias would need to return to his office. (After they'd gotten the latch and lock on his door fixed.) It wasn't ideal; Jon thought it was safer for all of them if Elias was with them. At the same time, keeping up airs would require Elias be in his office during work hours. It would be awkward and hard to explain if someone went looking for him, only to find him down in the archives _every time_.

Thankfully for them, Rosie was amazing working with odd and specific requests with very little information to explain why. She had agreed to let them know if someone was looking for Elias. And it was already shown she was good at intervening anyone trying to make a surprise visit to see Elias. They weren't going to bring her into the fold, however, unanimously agreeing it would only endanger her further. She was already indentured to The Eye, unknowingly, there was no need to pull her further in.

"Should we really leave him unsupervised?" Martin asked.

No one answered for a long time, thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

"I'm sure it's fine," Jon finally said.

Meanwhile, Elias was sitting in his chair, with legs pulled up to his chest, squinting at his computer monitor while he painstakingly typed slowly, with his two first-fingers, and said out-loud as he typed, "What…is…a…Rick…roll?"

* * *

Through the next two weeks leading up to the end of the month, they'd managed to work out how they'd divide the labor of being the head of an institute. Side-note: Tim had agreed to stay. Not that he could quit. But he'd agreed to continue to help keep up appearances so long as Jon let him listen to Gertrude's tapes about the Circus, as well as do his own digging and research into the Circus. And no more secrets.

Elias would simply be a figure-head for meetings with other staff. Speaking of the meetings, it was decided that Tim and Martin would rotate who would attend Elias if he ever needed to meet with anyone else who worked at the Institute. They would help coach him before, then help guide him through, and be there to help if things started to go downhill.

Sasha had hacked into Elias's email and they agreed, as a combined effort, they would all write replies, send memos, and draft emails to other staff, on an as-needed basis. (In the same vein, thanks to Sasha's hacking skills, they were able to find out where Elias lived. They also found out that he was fucking loaded.) This also gave them access to his secret schedule.

Jonah had two schedules: the one Rosie had access to, and the one that included apparent monthly meetings for avatars of the fourteen fears. It was agreed that both Tim and Martin would attend those meetings with Elias, and then go from there. (It'd been quite evident that Jon had no improv skills to speak of.) They'd prepare as much as they could in advance, of course, but none of them knew, in the slightest, what a meeting with other avatars entailed.

Jon and Tim listened to the tapes that Basira brought over. Tim shared any notes and information that he'd found in his own research. Jon was still trying to locate Gertrude's laptop but wasn't having much luck finding it (he secretly hoped he might get a clue from the tapes). Much to Jon's annoyance, he was now working closely with Leitner. Setting up whatever he and Gertrude had. It would've been easier if they could find Gertrude's laptop, of course, but until then, they'd work with what they had. Elias being loaded was helpful. (Technically speaking, Jonah was. But like with his safe, he'd used Elias's body to get it. So now, it belonged to Elias. The real Elias.)

As for Elias, when he wasn't exploring the wonders of the vast (pun intended) internet, he was reading Jonah's old letters. Jon had, indeed, made notes for him (because he was too nice), which he then went over with, with Elias…who, unfortunately, still didn't seem to be getting it. Occasionally, Elias would listen to one of Gertrude's tapes—the ones Jonah had been hiding from Jon. It was hard to understand how much he was truly comprehending but he was wholly cooperative. Even if he hated wearing suits. And being old. Two things he complained about the most.

* * *

Elias let out a huff and sat back in his chair, a deep frown etched on his face, glaring at all the papers on Jon's desk.

Jon sat back, too. "Why don't we stop for today."

They were in Jon's office, going over the notes Jon had made for Elias. It was nearing closing time for the Institute.

Elias looked at Jon and exclaimed, "I _hate_ being old! I get tired at four in the afternoon and wake up at five in the morning. I have to actually _watch_ what I eat. I'm always cold." He sighed and slumped in his chair. "Weed has changed," he mumbled sadly.

Jon waited to see if Elias was finished, thinking. When it was clear Elias wasn't going to say more, Jon said, "…y-you could still…smoke weed, couldn't you?"

Elias nodded enthusiastically. "I could. And I have already." His shoulders slumped again, and he made a face. "But with this older body, it just hits different, you feel?"

Jon started at Elias. Internally he was thinking, _What the fuck does that mean?_ Externally, he nodded and muttered, "Right." hoping that was an appropriate response to the string of words Elias had just said. He also made a mental note to ask one of the archival assistants what "hits different" and "you feel" meant.

* * *

After they'd all left for the evening, said their goodbyes, Jon and Martin were left in the car park, heading the same direction because they'd parked near each other. Jon figured it was good a time as any to ask about the colloquialisms Elias had used earlier.

"He says words that I understand, okay," Jon explained. "But he puts them in an order that makes no sense to me."

Martin gave him an amused but pitying look, causing Jon to flush.

"I-I…I would look it up," Jon tried to defend, "but sometimes…i-it can be difficult to find the right definition."

"Oh! No, I wasn't—" Martin tried before giving up, looking down, and mumbling, "Uh, sorry. Um, 'hits different' just means that it _feels_ different, emotionally. And, uh, 'you feel' is like asking, 'do you understand what I'm saying?' and the like."

Jon let out a frustrated groan. "Then why not just _say_ that?" he complained. Martin couldn't help but chuckle at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy…uh…TMA Cliff-Hanger/Beginning of the 6-Week Long Hiatus Day…
> 
> Well, anyway, good news is y'all get another chapter today.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/623836310543679488/chapter-7-some-kind-of-conspiracy)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	8. No Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What, you egg? [ _He stabs him._ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely friend, @talking0fmichelangel0, for giving me the idea for this chapter's summary.

Elias was stressed.

He didn't often get stressed. It wasn't really in his nature. But his buds were counting on him. He wasn't sure what exactly for, but he just knew that they were counting on him. It was a lot of pressure. On top of everything else—blacking out in the 1990s and waking up the 2010s, how much technology had advanced and so quickly, his mind hadn't aged but his body had. And now this! He still had to be some stuffy old guy. At least he just had to look the part. And they had promised to help him when needed.

Still. It was a lot.

Elias glanced up at his office door, frowning. They'd said not to leave his office during work hours, except for lunch and bathroom breaks. "Just in case." In case of what, though?

Did getting snacks fall under the "Can Leave Office For" list? Snacks were food.

Five minutes. He'd just pop down to the vending machines real quick and then go back to his office.

* * *

Elias was glad that, even if vending machines were fancier, shinier, and brighter, at least they still worked the same. He got a bag of crisps, two Crunchie bars, and then a pack of Twizzlers. Not one for delayed gratification, he carefully put the bag of crisps under his arm before tearing into one of the Crunchie bars and promptly shoving half the bar into his mouth, taking a bite, and then shoving the other half into his mouth. Then he ripped open the Twizzlers packet and shoved a Twizzlers into his mouth, alongside the half-chewed Crunchie bar.

Meanwhile, Jon had headed up to Elias's office to check in on him. Only to open the door and find an empty office. The first thing that hit him was sheer panic—anything could happen at this Institute, and Elias could be in danger. (They still didn't know where the horse was and Leitner was still trying to figure out a plan to capture it.) But he tried to quell his panic enough to pull out his phone (leaning up against the doorframe for balance) and send a message to the new group chat they'd created for this very purpose. It was titled "Joey Magma and the Spoopy Staff *ghost emoji*" Tim had picked the name. If Jon knew how to change group chat names, he would've. (Spoiler alert: by the time he learns, he won't want to change it.)

Jon

> Elias isn't in his office. We need to find him.

Sasha

> we're on it, boss!

* * *

"Jonah?" someone asked. He turned toward the voice, letting go of the Twizzlers so that it was hanging from his mouth, but continued chewing. The person regarded him before pointing to herself. "Sarah Baldwin? We met a few weeks ago? At the, uh…gathering."

Elias smiled around his mouthful of food and chewed slower, trying to come up with a plan that didn't involve him simply turning and sprinting down the hall.

"There you are, Elias!" Martin exclaimed, coming up to Elias and Sarah with a smile that was a little too enthusiastic.

"Ms. Baldwin?" Rosie said almost simultaneously to Martin appearing, approaching the three.

"So sorry, Elias and I have a meeting scheduled," Martin said, standing close to Elias and smiling at Sarah.

"I apologize, Elias," Rosie said. "I was taking a phone call and couldn't step away when Ms. Baldwin entered." She turned to Sarah and reached up her hand to Sarah's arm, gently turning her away from Elias and Martin, making sure not to touch Sarah, however. "His schedule is full today, unfortunately. But if you come back to the front desk, I can make an appointment for you."

"Thanks, Rosie," Martin said before Sarah could respond. Then he turned to Elias. "Come on, Elias, we've got to go discuss the…archive's supply of file folders." Martin gently gripped Elias's arm and started leading him away from Sarah and Rosie.

Sarah looked at them suspiciously but Rosie kept gently herding her back toward the front desk, all with her customer-service smile. Eventually, Sarah relented and followed Rosie back but declined the offer to make an appointment and quickly exited the Institute.

Martin sighed as he led Elias away.

Elias, having finished chewing, swallowed. "Sorry," he said, shoulders slumping as he looked morosely down at the food in his hands. "I got…hungry."

Martin reached up to pat his shoulder comfortingly. "It's alright. Come on, why don't we head down to the archives." He pulled out his phone, then, and texted the group chat to tell them they could call off the search.

* * *

Sarah texted as she walked back to the wax museum.

Sarah

> Couldn't find NotSasha. Bumped into Jonah, though. He was acting a bit weird.

Nikola

> Oh? Weird how?

Sarah paused, thinking through the whole interaction before responding with:

Sarah

> I didn't think he liked Twizzlers.

* * *

Back in the Archives, Martin knocked on Jon's office door (Jon had returned after reading that Martin had found Elias) and waited for the quiet "Come in" before opening the door.

Elias waited outside the threshold, as Martin stepped in. "Hey, uh, I think he's having a rough time of it," he stage-whispered.

Jon shifted in his seat. "…so you brought him to me?" Martin nodded but didn't offer any other explanation. "Why _me_?"

"He just needs someone to talk to," Martin said. "A friend."

Jon blinked. "And you thought _I'd_ be the best person?"

"He _has_ called you his best bud before." Martin shrugged, giving Jon a wobbly smile.

Jon tried to come up with a response but all he could muster was a sigh. "Okay."

"Thanks," Martin said before stepping aside and letting Elias enter Jon's office. He gave one last smile to Jon and Elias before exiting, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Do you mind if I…?" Elias gestured to Jon's desk and then looked down at the snacks he still held.

"Uh…that's fine," Jon said. ~~It wasn't.~~ Elias set his things down, keeping it in a small area on Jon's desk, and sat down in the chair opposite Jon. But he didn't talk. Just stared sadly at his pile of snacks, shoulders hunched.

"…do you want to talk about it?" Jon finally prompted.

Elias sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, throwing his head back. Jon waited. Elias sat back up and sighed again.

"I still feel twenty," Elias mumbled sadly. "It's still the nineties in my head. I don't want all this responsibility. I barely understand what's going on. I hate reading. I don't get all these fear thingies." Jon nodded throughout, making noncommittal sounds of sympathy at the appropriate points.

"I don't wanna be an old, evil Jonas Brother!" Elias exclaimed, throwing his hands down into his lap.

Jon inclined his head in confusion. "Uh, n-no, that's not…not his name," he tried to correct but Elias wasn't listening, going in on one of his tangents.

"I listened to some of their music and they're okay." Elias shrugged. "Not really great—"

"You've got the wrong—" Jon tried again.

"They're like the Beatles—"

"Elias, y-you—"

"Except they're brothers—"

"H-his name is—"

"And there's only three of them."

Jon gave up, then, and just went with it. It wasn't like Jonah was the pinnacle of an upstanding citizen, anyway. Jon shouldn't have cared so much about getting his name right. Besides, Evil Jonas had a nice ring to it.

Elias looked up at Jon. "Have you heard of them? Or listened to their music?"

"…the…th-the Beatles or the Jonas Brothers?" Jon asked.

"The Jonas Brothers."

"Well, I…think the name is familiar," Jon said slowly. He paused. "Also, there are four," he muttered, idly playing with the pen on his desk.

"What?"

"Th-the Jonas Brothers. There are four of them…actually. They, uh, have a younger brother. He was…too young to join the band."

"Wait." Elias grinned slowly. "Are you a fan?"

Jon sat up straighter and dropped his pen. "No!"

This was, as you know, dear reader, a blatant falsehood.

Yes, Jon would never admit it—too ashamed—but, alongside his library of eclectic music choices (from punk-rock to heavy metal to indie and everything in-between), there was also a lot of pop music. Georgie had mocked him relentlessly for it, and still did, to this day. But she was kind enough to keep it on the DL. (Spoiler alert: when Martin finds out, he definitely judges a little bit, but he also has a soft spot for cheesy love songs. So it's a win-win.)

Jon continued to splutter, "No I—uh, y-you remember The Eye, right? Th-the one that sees everything? It…uh, it gives me…certain abilities…that allow me to access information about anything." Elias gave him a blank look. Jon sighed. "It gives me superpowers."

Elias grinned again. "Sweet!"

* * *

The office to Jon's door opened just as Rosie came bustling into the archives. Jon was slightly hunched over as he leaned heavily against his doorframe. He only had one of his crutches because his free hand cradled his side. He looked sickly with a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Sasha looked up from her computer, where she'd been furiously typing something. Tim and Martin, who'd been taking a short tea break and conversing, looked over at Jon, as well.

Jon weakly cleared his throat. "I believe I may need to go to the hospital," he said shakily, moving his hand, which was now covered in blood. His shirt was already getting a decent-sized stain. Jon covered his wound again as Rosie went up to him. She held her arms out, as if to steady Jon, but didn't touch him.

"I apologize, Jon," she said. "I would've given you a warning but…y'know, nature of the beast and all that. Would you like me to dial an ambulance?"

"No need."

Everyone looked at Martin in shock. He set his teacup back into his saucer so hard everyone flinched. Then he smiled the most pleasant smile anyone had ever seen on him. Seeing as it was directed at Jon, he felt his heart land in his stomach and then both of them drop to his feet. And suddenly his stab wounds felt like bad cat scratches.

"I'll drive," Martin said in the same tone, setting his teacup and saucer on the desk next to him. They clattered loudly, causing everyone to flinch again.

He went over to where Jon and Rosie still stood. "I'll take it from here, Rosie."

Rosie nodded. "Sorry, again," she said to Jon before turning and heading back upstairs. No one was sure if she was apologizing for not being able to warn them about Michael or for how much trouble Jon was in _because_ she wasn't able to warn them.

Martin offered his arm for Jon to hold and lean on (seeing as there was a striking height difference between them, so Jon putting his arm around Martin's shoulders wasn't currently an option with Jon's wounds).

Jon blanched. "Uh—"

Martin smiled pleasantly at him again. " _Jon._ "

"I'm going to get blood on you—"

"I don't care." Martin held his arm further out.

Swallowing hard, Jon haltingly reaching over with his free, bloodied hand and gingerly linked his arm with Martin's. His other hand was gripping his cane to tight, his knuckles stuck out. Not necessarily because he felt off-balance. No, in fact, he felt very _safe_ with Martin next to him like that.

"I'll come with," Sasha said, as Martin and Jon started to head for the exit, standing and grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair.

"Grab my other crutch, will you?" Jon threw over his shoulder.

"Sure thing!" Sasha quickly went into Jon's office to grab his crutch and looked at Tim as she exited, "Think you can hold down the fort while we're gone?"

Tim nodded silently, still a little stunned.

* * *

They made it to the hospital in record time. ~~Dare I say faster than any ambulance.~~

Jon was in the back with Sasha (who held his crutches in her lap), looking quite sickly. Half because of his stab wounds, yes, and half because of the _way_ Martin was able to get them to the hospital so quickly. That's why Sasha had tagged along, to steady him. Best not to aggravate Jon's wounds any more than necessary.

As Jon was being stitched up, Sasha tried to calm Martin down, who was pacing in the waiting area.

"He can be so _infuriating_ sometimes," Martin exclaimed.

"Martin," Sasha tried but Martin interrupted her.

"Wh-what did you guys talk about?" he asked. "Right before he came out of his office with _stab wounds_ , you guys had exchanged some words."

"It was about Michael," Sasha said. "Or the…avatar that refers to himself as Michael."

"The one who told you how to defeat Prentiss?" Martin asked, stopping in his pacing and looking over at Sasha, who nodded.

"I don't know anything beyond that," Sasha said. "I believe someone who had encountered him had just given a statement, and Jon wanted me on it. We also scheduled a time to relisten to the tape I made about when I met Michael. That's all we discussed, I swear. Jon's going to have to tell you the rest."

"Well, can't you just…See what happened?" Martin asked.

Sasha gave him a sympathetic smile. "I try not to do that to you guys," she said. "Respect your privacy and all that."

"Ah. Okay. Th-that's fair." Martin sighed and rubbed his face with his hands before readjusting his glasses and taking a seat next to Sasha. "Sorry. I'm just…worried." He scoffed.

Sasha patted Martin's arm. "Of course. I understand."

The stitches were relatively quick work. Thankfully, no one needed to be held at the hospital under the Mental Health Act, which also meant no one needed to be kidnapped from said hospital, either. The drive back was just as…eventful as the drive there, but Jon was much more prepared for it. Still, Sasha provided good support. Even being prepared, however, did nothing to soothe Jon's nerves. He looked just as sickly when they stopped to pick up some pain meds for Jon, and when they got back to the archives, as he had when they left.

Tim and Elias were waiting for them.

Elias went up to Jon. "Rosie told me you were stabbed! Are you okay? You should be at home, resting, dude!" He said this all as he carefully led Jon to the nearest chair.

Jon blinked, stunned at seeing Elias so worried about him.

"I…I wanted to tell the others what happened first," Jon managed, shifting carefully in his chair so he could sit up straighter, resting his crutches against his leg again.

They gathered in their circle. Jon, begrudgingly, allowed Sasha to go get Leitner. They listened to the tape he'd just recorded, then, Jon figuring it would provide more context for the others.

Leitner nodded when the tape ended. "It sounds like this avatar, Michael, is of The Spiral, from the way Helen described the hallways."

"Is that all?" Jon asked when Leitner didn't say more.

Leitner exhaled sharply. "The Spiral, as you can probably imagine, is hard to pin down. By its very nature, it is a fear that is hard to describe. There aren't _specific_ things I could tell you about Michael that would help you rescue Helen, if that's what you're looking for. I'm sorry."

"So we're just supposed to leave her there, then?" Jon asked.

"What do you think happens to the other statement-givers, Jon?" Leitner asked, tired of trying to be polite and keep the peace. He would've said more, but that sentence was enough on its own.

No one said anything for a long time.

"I _hate_ working here," Tim ground through his teeth. To that, the others couldn't disagree.

…

To: Magnus Institute Staff  
From: Elias Bouchard

Subject: Halloween Rush

Hi all,

A reminder that as Halloween approaches, there will be more traffic in and around the Institute.

Additionally, but unrelated, if you see a black Ardennes draft horse, either inside or outside of the Institute, please let Rosie know. Give a time and place, if you can. There is no need to call animal control, but please DO NOT approach the horse.

Sincerely,  
Elias Bouchard

PS: Since Halloween falls on a Monday this year, wearing costumes is permitted and encouraged!

* * *

To: Jonathan Sims, Martin K Blackwood, Sasha James, Timothy Stoker  
From: Elias Bouchard

Subject: Halloween party at my flat!

Hey homies, I'm gonna hold a Halloween party at my flat this Saturday. It'll be just us. I'll provide the food and drinks. Dressing up is encouraged! From 19:00 to 22:00. lmk if you can come!

Elias

* * *

Jon squinted at his laptop screen, quietly dragging out the letters in "lmk," and using context clues from the rest of the email, to see if his brain could figure out what it stood for. Then promptly gave up and looked it up, too embarrassed to leave his office and ask the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin's crazy driving is a hc based on [this](https://shock.tumblr.com/post/619210841844252672/shock-someone-was-talking-about-if-tma) post by [@shock](https://shock.tumblr.com/) because I fucking love it and it's canon as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> Also shout-out (again) to the true MVP, [@justletmeremember](http://justletmeremember.tumblr.com/), for giving me a detailed description of stab wound aftercare. (Even though none of it made it into this chapter lkajlkdjf—nature of the beast. It's still good info for me to know, even if none of it makes it into the actual text.)
> 
> Finally, as just a fair warning, I'm, for the most part, planning this as I go now. You know that meme of a giant chasm in what looks to be a post-apocalyptic landscape, and on one side of the chasm is Plot Point A and on the other side of the chasm is Plot Point B? And the writing struggle is making a bridge from Point A to Point B? It'll be like that for me for the rest of the story lmao. So updates will begin to be much more sporadic from here on out.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/623865022991482880/chapter-8-no-need)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciate! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	9. Still be Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locks are my specialty! *throws brick through the window*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how many actually read the notes but, just in case some missed it, i did post a second chapter (ch 8) the Thur before last a few hours after ch 7 (tho bc of times zones and stuff things could be a lil wonky regarding timeline), just as a bonus bc of the hiatus. so if you haven't read that yet, you should go and do that probably lol

"I think we need to…visit Gertrude's flat," Jon said.

"Right." Tim nodded. "And by 'visit,' you mean…" He trailed off, waiting. Jon met his gaze, silently prompting him to continue but Tim was stubborn and wanted to hear Jon say it.

Jon relented and continued Tim's inquiry, "…break into," Jon finished. "Yes."

Tim leaned back in his chair and grinned. "You didn't strike me to be inclined to criminal activity but—"

"I—that's not—" Jon stuttered, his face growing warm. "I just think that…we should…investigate her flat. Maybe her laptop is there, at the very least."

They were in Jon's office. They'd just finished listening to one of the tapes Basira had brought over and were discussing Tim's notes, his research into the Circus.

"Sure, sure," Tim said, still grinning.

Jon sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll go alone, if you'd prefer—"

Tim sat forward. "No way! I have to see this for myself."

Jon scoffed and turned to retrieve his crutches before standing (it was time for a tea break). "You say that as if I've never done petty crime before." And as Tim felt himself astral project, Jon made his way around his desk, to the door.

"Jon!" Tim managed as Jon opened his office door. "Wait, what do you mean by that?" he asked in a slightly strangled voice, turning to face Jon as he exited.

"Exactly what you think it means, Tim," Jon replied with a small smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, before turning and heading to the kitchenette they had in the archives.

Tim could only watch him go, through the open door, his jaw slack and his mind reeling.

* * *

Martin's hands were shaking as he tried to type out a text to the group chat:

Martin

> guys, i hear sirens. pls tell me its not bc of you

Sasha

> you guys are doing something illegal and didnt invite me!

Martin

> thats not the point sasha!  
> guys, theyre getting closer! whatever ur doing, hurry the fck up!

Martin dropped his phone as Tim jumped and Jon practically threw himself, crutches and all, into the backseat of his car, slamming the door. (Once on one of his crutches.)

"Go!" Tim shouted.

Afraid they were going to get caught by the police, Martin didn't waste a moment and stomped on the gas. His tires squealed as the car shot forward. Once they were far enough away that Martin felt they were in the clear, he screeched to a halt at the curb.

Tim and Jon sat in the back, gripping the grab handles (or as Martin liked to refer to them, "Jesus bars," because people said that a lot whenever they rode with him) for dear life. Jon's other hand was holding tightly to his crutches. Even though Jon had experienced Martin's driving before, that didn't mean it was any less terrifying.

Martin turned to face the two of them, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned down in a deep frown.

"Is that why you invited me tonight? To be your getaway driver?" he asked, incredulous. "What were you even doing? _Why_ didn't you tell me you were doing something illegal?"

"Because we knew you wouldn't approve," Tim said, not letting go of his Jesus bar, "and we needed a fast getaway, just in case. Besides"—Tim looked over at Jon—"I'm not the one who broke the window with his crutch to get into Gertrude's flat."

"You _what_?" Martin exclaimed.

"It's not like you had a better plan," Jon retorted, ignoring Martin. He, too, was still gripping his Jesus bar.

"You guys were house-breaking?" Martin asked.

Jon ignored him, again, still engaged with Tim, "Neither of us knows how to pick a lock. The police were going to show up regardless of how we got in. Breaking the window was fast and efficient."

"Guys," Martin tried.

"You didn't have to use your crutch to do it," Tim muttered.

" _Guys_ ," Martin tried again.

"It's better than getting cut by glass," Jon said.

" _Guys!_ " Martin snapped. Tim and Jon finally looked over at him. Martin opened his mouth to ask a question, maybe multiple questions, but they all bunched up in his mouth and he ended up not saying anything. So he closed his mouth to gather his thoughts and to try to control his annoyance, then, "Did you at least find anything useful?"

Tim and Jon exchanged a look.

"Yeah, so," Tim started, "define…'useful.'"

Martin let out a frustrated groan and hung his head.

"Well, we found that she _does_ have a laptop, it just wasn't there," Jon said.

"You didn't believe Leitner when he said—" Martin started, looking up at Jon.

"I have a healthy skepticism for whatever Leitner says to me, okay," Jon said. "I always need a second, trusted source for confirmation when it comes to him."

"Gertrude did do this weird thing with her books, though," Tim said, steering the conversation away from Leitner. "Any book that featured a face, she had carefully cut out the eyes."

"Oh, that's a little strange—" Martin began but broke off and jumped as his passenger-side door opened and Sasha got in, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm seriously put out that you didn't invite me to all the fun," she said looking at Martin, then turning to face Tim and Jon.

"How did you find us?" Jon asked as Martin said, "Don't look at me! They didn't tell me what they were up to. And I wouldn't exactly call what just happened, ' _fun_ ,' okay?"

Sasha raised an eyebrow at Jon. "Same way I knew you weren't thirty-eight when we celebrated your birthday."

Jon stiffened and flushed.

"Anyway, guys," Sasha continued. "Next time you decide for a night of crime, invite me, too!"

Martin sighed, shaking his head. "You guys are lucky that avatar meeting was cancelled this month because I'm going to _need_ a whole month to recuperate from this."

"We needed your driving skills—" Tim tried.

Martin held up his hand. "Just because I _can_ doesn't mean I _want to_." Martin shifted. "Not to mention, it's easier and actually fun when I have forewarning," he quickly mumbled under his breath.

Tim looked around at the three of them. "Unbelievable. All my friends are criminals!"

"You know you've gotten access to police records, among other things, that you're technically not supposed to have access to, which could be considered a little criminal," Sasha said.

"What! _No_. That's—" Tim broke off and looked to Martin and Jon for help, but Martin just shrugged sheepishly and Jon let go of his crutches so he could do the "a little" gesture, holding his first finger and thumb a few centimeters apart.

Tim made an offended noise and looked away, out the window of the car, shaking his head, but a smile pulled at the edges of his lips.

* * *

Elias

> i got you homies! if u evr need bail 💶💶 lmk

* * *

It was difficult to get Jon to swear. Especially when he was at work. Always mindful of keeping up that Boss-Man in Academia™ appearance.

Difficult.

But not impossible.

When Jon entered the archives that Halloween morning and spotted Tim, he jumped (nearly losing his balance) and exclaimed, "Good God! What the fuck are you wearing?"

Tim jutted his hip out, throwing one arm up into the air and resting his other hand on his hip, posing. "I'm 'sexy' Where's Wally." Or, in other words, Tim was wearing a long-sleeved crop-top with the classic Where's Wally red-and-white stripes. He also wore Wally's iconic red-and-white bobble hat, and had punched out the lenses of a pair of 3D glasses to complete the look. Instead of jeans, Tim wore booty jean shorts (or booty jorts, I believe the slang term is).

Jon could only stare at Tim in horror. "Sexy _what_?"

Tim grinned and stood normally again. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory, boss."

Jon hung his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. "I take it back," he muttered. "I'd rather be locked in my office again. Forever."

"Oh, you're no fun," Sasha's voice came from in front of him.

Jon sighed and lifted his head to respond to her only to come face-to-face with a sheet-ghost.

Now, sheet-ghosts weren't particularly scary by themselves but Jon had proven to be jumpy, and he'd been expecting to see Sasha, not a sheet-ghost. _Definitely_ not a sheet-ghost with three similar-sized holes cut into the fabric: two for the eyes, one for the mouth. It was…a little unnerving, to say the least.

" _Oh!_ " Jon yelped, jumping back. And then because he was still adjusting to his new balance and using crutches, he began to fall. Thankfully, Martin was just entering the archives and was in apt position to easily catch Jon before he could hit the ground.

"Oh, careful," Martin said gently, chuckling. That was before he realized who he'd caught. When Jon looked up at him and they locked eyes, Martin's face went red. "Oh! Jon!" Martin squeaked before quickly righting Jon—perhaps a little too rough because of his nervousness—making sure his crutches were upright, too, before letting go, giving him a polite nod, and then promptly making his way to his desk, keeping his gaze down.

Sasha giggled. "If I'd known you were gonna get so scared, I would've stood further away."

Jon glared at her but his glasses were askew and his hair mussed up because of his fall—well, _almost_ -fall—so it didn't do any psychic damage.

"I see you're not in a costume," she remarked.

Jon, carefully balancing with just one crutch, reached up to right the strap of his messenger bag before straightening his glasses out. "I'm _trying_ to keep it professional," he said as he put his other crutch back down. "Elias didn't say it was mandatory." He nodded to Martin, who was conversing with Tim in quiet tones, looking quite miserable. "Besides, Martin didn't dress up, either." He frowned, the longer he watched them talk.

Sasha stepped closer to Jon, to see what he was looking at.

"I wouldn't mind Martin's reaction, too much," Sasha said quietly, inferring (correctly) why Jon was frowning. "He's just shy."

Jon's frown deepened. "I don't think he likes me very much, Sasha."

The only word Sasha could get past her shock was, " _What?_ "

"Ah, sorry." Jon shook his head. "I got too personal. I'll be in my office if you need me." With that, he began to make his way to his office at a brisk pace ~~feeling embarrassed for letting that slip so easily~~.

"Wait, Jon," Sasha spluttered in a weak voice. "'Doesn't like you'—Jon!" She tried to follow him but her sheet-ghost costume severely limited her vision and she ended up crashing her side painfully into a chair (and by that time, Jon had made it to his office and was already closing the door). "Oh, bugger-all!"

Meanwhile, Tim and Martin were having a strikingly similar conversation.

"I'm sure it's not a big deal," Tim assured in a low tone. "You didn't even give him time to respond, that's all. I'm sure he's very grateful."

Martin groaned and covered his face with his hands, only blushing harder. "Don't joke, Tim. This is serious!"

"I _am_ being serious, Martin," Tim said. "Sasha and I had just startled him and he was falling—that's the only reason he looked so flustered. Not because it was you who caught him." _I'm sure he was flustered, just not in a bad way,_ Tim thought.

"But he doesn't _like_ me, Tim," Martin replied, lowering his hands to his desk, but not before adjusting his glasses.

Tim tried not to laugh due to his surprise. "…what?"

Martin sagged in his chair. "I mean you've seen how he addresses me," he muttered miserably.

Tim tried to quickly gather his thoughts, afraid if he was quiet too long, Martin would take it the wrong way.

"Right, well, weren't you the one who comforted him after he threw that book at Leitner," Tim said, wracking his brain, trying to remember Jon's facial expression when he'd burst into Jon's office, but not being able to because he'd been so upset. So he decided to just wing it. "I mean, seemed like he was really enjoying your company before I came and interrupted."

Martin sighed and gave a noncommittal wave of his hand. "A fluke."

"Well, what about when you wished him good luck before we went into that NotThem table? He seemed appreciative."

"He was being polite!"

"You guys ran about the Institute together to lead the NotThem on a goose chase, surely that—"

"It was a stressful situation. We all had to think and act fast."

"Martin, I'm sure that's not—" Tim tried but Martin shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Tim sighed. "Okay. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Martin frowned. "It's okay. Thanks for trying, Tim."

Tim paused. "Is there something else on your mind?"

Martin shrugged and let out a huff. "I've just never really been a fan of Halloween." He gestured to himself and lowered his voice, "They don't exactly make fun costumes for people my size. And I certainly don't have the money to purchase a tailor-made costume that I'll only wear for a day."

Tim did a once-over, taking note of what Martin was wearing, and grinned, getting an idea.

"Meet me in the restroom in five minutes," he said before going over to his desk and rummaging around his backpack, not giving Martin a chance to respond or ask why. Martin thought maybe if he stared really hard at Tim, Tim would give him some answers. When that didn't work, he gave up and headed to the restroom.

After finding the Pomade and comb he always kept on him, Tim went over to knock on Jon's office door.

Jon sighed and averted his gaze when Tim opened the door. "Please tell me you're _not_ going to wear that all day."

"Oh, it's Halloween, it's fine," Tim said.

"No one is going to take us seriously—"

"No one takes us seriously anyway," Tim interrupted. Jon frowned. "We investigate the paranormal. That's not exactly the poster child of seriousness to the general public, if you hadn't noticed."

"Alright, what did you want?" Jon asked.

"Could I borrow the extra tie you keep in your bag?"

Jon flushed. "I don't—" Tim raised an eyebrow, causing Jon to break off. "What do you need it for?" he asked, suspicious.

"It's a surprise; nothing bad, I promise."

Despite Tim's vague answer, Jon reached into his bag and pulled out a light- and dark-blue, diagonally striped tie. Still gazing skeptically at Tim, he stood and slowly handed it over.

"Thanks, boss!" Tim closed Jon's office door and headed to the restroom. Martin was leaning against one of the sinks, impatiently drumming his fingers against the side of his leg.

Fifteen minutes later, they both stood in front of one of the mirrors, Tim behind Martin with his hands on Martin's shoulders. Martin held his jumper, now thrown over his arm. Now he wore his button-down (which had been underneath his jumper) and the tie Tim had borrowed from Jon. Most of the time had been spent on doing Martin's hair up in a particular way. Tim "had to get it _just_ right."

"Ta da!" Tim exclaimed. "The best last-minute, closet cosplay I've ever seen."

Martin blushed. "You're just saying that, Tim," he mumbled as he reached up with his free hand to gently prod at his new hairdo.

"Don't mess with it," Tim scolded.

"Was this little… _flourish_ really necessary?"

"It's part of the look and if you keep poking at it, it's going to deflate."

Martin sighed and lowered his hand but immediately adjusted his glasses, even though they didn't need readjusting.

"No one's going to recognize who I'm supposed to be," Martin muttered.

"I'm sure they will," Tim said, patting Martin's shoulders.

Martin simply sighed again. "Okay, well…" He trailed off but turned toward the door. Tim took Martin's jumper and let Martin exit first.

Just as they were exiting, Jon was coming down the hall. Martin froze and held his breath as Jon approached them. Jon looked at Tim first, shaking his head once again at Tim's "costume." Then he looked at Martin, who's back went ramrod straight.

"Clark Kent," Jon said, nodding. "Very nice, Martin." He smiled. Then he stepped passed them and entered the restroom.

Martin buried his red face in his hands and tried not to squeal. From embarrassment? Happiness? He wasn't sure. (Just inside the restroom, Jon's heart was doing a funny little thing. His knees felt weak and it was a good thing he was able to lean against the door. When he lifted one of his hands to press against his chest, crutch hanging off his arm, he noticed his hand was trembling. His face felt warm, too. Oh, he wasn't quite sure if he liked that feeling. It felt…unstable. He didn't much like unstable.)

Tim squeezed Martin's shoulder. "See, told you people would recognize you," he said, then glanced back at the restroom door. "Though, I am surprised Jon knows who Clark Kent is."

* * *

"Good morning, Spoopy Staff!" Elias exclaimed as he entered the archives, somehow timing it just right, for Jon, who was usually holed up in his office, had ventured out for a tea break. (His first of many.) He was sitting in one of the chairs next to an empty desk in the common workspace.

Elias reached into the bowl full of candy he'd brought with him, grabbed a handful, and proceeded to throw it at Jon.

"Happy Halloween!" Elias exclaimed as he did so.

Jon grimaced as the candy fell off him before fixing his glasses. The others repeated Elia's sentiment back to him as Jon glanced up at the headband Elias was wearing, which had small devil horns on it ( _Ironic_ , Jon thought), and looked down at his tea cup, which now had a hard candy floating in it. Thankfully, it was wrapped.

As Jon carefully fished the hard candy out of his tea, Elias set the bowl of candy and a plastic bag he'd also brought down with him onto an empty space of the desk nearest him. He looked up at Tim with a scrutinizing expression, then nodded.

"Sexy Where's Wally, very nice," Elias said in a comically serious tone.

"Thank you!" Tim exclaimed standing and looking over at Jon. "At least _someone_ appreciates my efforts."

Jon rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea and muttering something unintelligible into his teacup.

Elias turned to Sasha. "Ooo, a sheet ghost! Classic! Good choice, Sasha."

Sasha gave a bow. "Thank you."

Then Elias looked at Martin, who held his breath. Elias grinned. "Clark Kent! Awesome, dude!" Elias went over and double hi-fived Martin, who relaxed and smiled back. "Superheroes are _the best_."

"Th-thanks, Elias," Martin managed in a surprised but, nevertheless, happy tone.

Then it was Jon's turn. Elias frowned. "You're not in costume."

Jon readjusted his glasses again. "Neither are you."

"Yeah, because you guys told me I couldn't," Elias complained. "That's okay, that's why I brought these!" He went back over to where he set the bowl and bag, pulling out several headbands (with various types of ears and other Halloween-themed things on them) and brandished them for the archival staff. "I know sometimes people don't necessarily like to dress up, so I bought a bunch of these fun little headbands, just in case. What do you guys think?"

Elias held up one of the headbands, facing Jon, and closed one of his eyes. Tim, Martin, and Sasha all quickly moved to stand next to him.

"Bunny ears don't suit him, I think," Tim said.

"Agreed," Sasha said as Martin nodded.

Elias held up another headband as Jon realized what they were doing and his face flushed.

"I'm not going to be subjected to this," he said, setting his teacup down on the table hard, and grabbing his crutches.

"Awww!" the others exclaimed simultaneously.

Elias lowered the headband he'd had up and gave Jon puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

Jon froze, as he was slipping his hands into the cuffs of his crutches, his brain giving him the blue screen of death at seeing Elias give him puppy-dog eyes of all things. Elias took that time to do a speed-run of the headbands. He held up mouse-ears next.

"Boo," Tim said, giving a thumbs-down.

Panda ears were next.

"Uh-uh," Sasha said.

Then a small witch/wizard/warlock hat.

"Not feelin' it." Martin shook his head.

The handles of fake scissors sticking out of the headband that was covered in fake blood.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin all made faces.

"Too gory," Tim said.

Elias held up another and it clicked.

"That one!" they exclaimed simultaneously.

Jon blinked, regaining his faculties just in time, his face flushing even more as he looked at the headband they had all picked. "No way!" He stood, since he already had his crutches ready to go, and started to head back to his office, abandoning his tea (sadly), but Tim quickly went up to him and gently grabbed Jon's arm.

"Come on, boss! Have a little fun today, you deserve it," Tim tried to persuade as Jon grumbled, "I will not entertain this nonsense," trying to pull his arm from Tim's grasp while also being careful not to take a spill should he actually free himself.

Jon continued, "You are free to dress as you want today, but I am _not_ going to put those wretched things on my head." He glared at the headband Elias was still holding.

"No one comes down to the archives anyway," Tim said. "You'll be fine. It's just for a day. Academia can be fun today. As a treat."

"No, I _will. Not—_ "

* * *

Jon let out a heavy sigh/growl and reached up to poke at his new accessory: a cat-ear headband; black ears that were bright pink on the "inside." He had his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched. "This feels too tight. It's crushing my skull. It's uncomfortable and itchy. I look _ridiculous_!"

He was sat in one of the chairs in the common workspace once again. His tea, on the desk next to him, forgotten and now cold. His crutches were resting against the desk.

Everyone ignored him. Elias dove in next to him, wrapping his arms around Jon's shoulders and holding up his phone in his other hand to get a picture.

"We're headband buddies!" he exclaimed. "Smile!" Before Jon could react, Elias took a photo.

"You're not going to post that anywhere are you?" Jon asked, his face flushing, once again, as he panicked. Elias pulled away to inspect the photos.

"I won't if you don't want me to," Elias said. "But I definitely want to keep it on my phone."

"Okay, but send it to the group chat," Sasha said.

"No one posts it!" Jon exclaimed quickly as Elias said, "Sure!" and started tapping away at his phone.

"Well, it's not like you could fire us if we did," Tim teased.

"But I'm still your boss and can give you extra paperwork for the next month—next _several_ months—if you do," Jon retorted, glaring at Tim.

Tim held up his hands. "Okay, I believe you."

Martin shrugged. "Might still be worth it."

"Martin!" Jon exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

"Oh, good on you, Martin," Sasha said, giving Martin a hi-five.

"Don't encourage him!" Jon half-exclaimed, half-pleaded.

"Guess this means we can drown in paperwork together, then," Tim added. He looked at Jon, trying to hide his smiled, and shrugged. "Sorry, boss."

Elias grinned. "So we're posting it? I made an Instagram for the Institute! We can post it there!"

Jon tried to say something as Elias excitedly pulled up his Instagram but no words came out. All he could do was sigh heavily and drop his head into one of his hands.

* * *

As the end of the day neared and everyone got ready to leave, Jon sighed as he exited his office, working himself up to ask a question they were all thinking, but that no one had voiced. (And, yes, he still wore the cat-ear headband. In fact, he'd completely forgotten about it, despite its supposed uncomfortableness.)

"So," he started awkwardly as they made their way to the exit. "A-are you guys going to Elias's…party this weekend?"

Uncomfortable silence met him as they made their way up the stairs, the only sound, Jon's crutches hitting the stairs. The others looked around, rubbed necks, swallowed hard. They'd made it to the entrance and were headed out to the car park by the time anyone spoke.

"I haven't responded yet," Sasha said. "Don't get me wrong, the real Elias is great to be around…but it does still feel a bit weird. Jonah possessed him for so long, and Jonah was our boss for such a long time, I…" She trailed off and shook her head. Well, they thought she was shaking her head. It was kind of hard to tell because she was still a sheet-ghost. (She was, indeed, shaking her head, btw)

"Yeah, I feel the same," Tim said. "It's funny and great, but when you _really_ think about it, I'm so used to Jonah as Elias, it's gives me a pretty strange feeling seeing real Elias."

"I'd feel bad if none of us went, though," Martin said quietly. "Or even if only a few of us showed. He seems really excited about it. I can just see the wounded expression if we all told him we couldn't come."

No one voiced what they were thinking, but they all agreed that seeing such a wounded look on Elias's face would make them feel like they'd just kicked a puppy.

"I-I mean, there'll be free food," Martin finally said. "You can't pass up on that, can you?"

"Never really been one for parties," Jon said. "Even if it were to be just us." (Sad translation: He was never invited to one because he didn't really have what you might call friends, growing up. By the time he got to uni, it was second nature to decline to go, even when invited. A defense mechanism; less pain for him in the long run. And now? Well, now he couldn't fathom knowing people who _liked_ him and _wanted_ to be around him—outside of when they were _forced_ to be around him—let alone having what you might consider _friends_. Even if Tim had confirmed it the night they broke into Gertrude's falt. Worry not, though, dear reader, because that will change.)

"Well," Tim said slowly. "So far, it hasn't been…bad." He paused, wondering if that was the right way to describe it. "Why don't we go for half an hour. That's the socially acceptable amount of time to be at a party and then leave, right? We'll go, see how we feel, and leave after that half-hour is up if we don't want to stay."

This was met with looks of skepticism.

"It's polite, at least," Martin said. "I wouldn't feel _too_ bad if we did that."

"You should really come, too, Jon," Sasha said, though it was weird hearing that encouraging tone of voice coming from a sheet-ghost. "It's a party, but a small one. And you'll know all of us."

"It wouldn't be the same without you, boss," Tim agreed.

"And even if we decided to stay, you could always leave after the half-hour," Martin added.

"I-I…I _suppose_ ," Jon muttered, shifting so he could, carefully, readjust the strap of his messenger bag, even though he didn't need to.

"So we're all agreed?" Tim asked. They all exchanged looks and nodded.

* * *

Elias wouldn't admit it, but he was relieved when he got four response emails letting him know that they would attend his Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter! Happy Monday! Hope the hiatus has been treating y'all well. I knew they would be releasing what had previously been patron-access only content, but I had no idea what that might be. And I was _not_ disappointed.
> 
> Shout-out to my friend and the True MVP, [@justletmeremember](http://www.justletmeremember.tumblr.com), for helping me pick out Halloween costumes for the spoopy staff!
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/624821356994904064/chapter-9-still-be-worth-it)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	10. Paperwork Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween game-night for the super rich and beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lkajlkdf writing,,, hard
> 
> ~~did i just reference OHSHC? yes, yes i did. bc i have no shame lmao~~

Logan had seen a lot of weird things in his life. It was just part of his job as a concierge for the flats of the super rich and beautiful. But what he was looking at, by far, had to be the weirdest. And that was saying something.

It wasn't hard to infer they were celebrating Halloween (perhaps a few days late, but maybe they weren't able to celebrate the weekend before). However, what were they doing _here_? At these flats, specifically? Logan had never seen them before and they _certainly_ did not look like part of the super rich.

Was it some kind of prank, set up by his coworkers? Or a Halloween-themed flash mob?

Logan flitted through all the possibilities, getting ready to put on his best customer-service mask and shoo them away before any of the tenants saw. They would most certainly get after him for letting them get this far.

But when the, what Logan could only assume, "sexy" Where's Wally approached the desk and asked for Elias Bouchard, Logan blanched. At the same time, some part of all this—whatever _this_ was—made more sense. Insofar that Mr. Bouchard had…changed. It was weird and Logan still wasn't sure he liked it because now Mr. Bouchard smelled like weed a lot; however, he _was_ nicer than he'd ever been to Logan in the past and always tipped him 50%, so Logan _really_ couldn't complain. So, Logan supposed, the fact that Mr. Bouchard would also hold parties at his flat wasn't all that out of the ordinary.

Still, he had to keep a healthy level of skepticism. It seemed odd Mr. Bouchard had _invited_ ~~these peasants~~ this cast of characters to his home. Even with the weird change.

"Let me just call up to him," Logan said politely. He didn't take his eyes off the group as he dialed Elias's flat. "Hi, yes, it's Logan. There are…some people down here to see you. They said that you invited them over for a…party?"

" _Oh, yeah, send them over please, Logan!_ " Elias replied.

Logan felt his soul leave his body, but still managed professionalism, "Of course." He hung up the phone and then smiled politely at Elias's guests. "If you would please follow me." He put up a sign, indicating he would be right back, and then turned and led them through a door on the other side of the lobby, into a courtyard, and then up to a gleaming black door with a gold knocker.

As he knocked, he looked to see the others straggling behind, their heads inclined up, looking around the courtyard. It was hard to get used to the glitz and glamor of the high-life. Even he was still amazed. In a bad way. Because it was easy to compare his box of a flat to these overpriced, over-the-top flats and get angry at the state of the world.

* * *

Logan had never fought so hard to keep his composure and professionalism as he did when Elias opened his front door. Sure, when Mr. Bouchard began to smell like weed, that'd been weird. So had when he'd treated Logan so nicely. The tips were more nice than weird. But when Logan turned back to the door when he heard it open, and saw Mr. Bouchard in a red crop top, red booty shorts, with a red devil's tail, wearing a headband with little red devil's horns on it, Logan had to fight not to burst out laughing and/or run away screaming. One thing was for sure: he was going to need to dunk his eyes in bleach, maybe scrub his brain with it, in order to get that image out of his mind. And even then, it would haunt his dreams, he was sure.

When the other man—Tim, was it?—finally looked down and at the open door, he and Elias froze before doing that one Spiderman meme, where they pointed at each other in recognition. They weren't wearing the same costumes, no, but they were wearing "sexy" costumes that really weren't supposed to be "sexy," so it counted.

Sasha couldn't stop herself from bursting out laughing. Martin could only stare silently in horror, regretting his life decisions. Jon, as soon as he spotted Elias, began to turn and head back the way they came, his blank facial expression never changing.

Without missing a beat or looking away from the door, Martin reached out, grabbing Jon's arm and turning him back around.

"This was a mistake," Jon muttered as Elias stepped aside to allow room for Tim and Sasha to enter. Martin and Jon followed behind, at a slower pace.

"Well, we can suffer together, then," Martin muttered back before smiling at Elias as he and Jon walked up the steps to the door, and made their way inside.

"Thanks, Logan," Elias said, handing him a 100 pound note. "You're the true MVP, dude."

"Cheers," Logan mumbled, trying for a smile, before he turned and headed back to the lobby.

Once Elias had closed his door again, he bounded past the archival staff, who were waiting just inside, jaws slack, eyes looking around at the ornate and gaudy interior design. Time, Martin, and Jon, all the while, had begun slipping off their shoes.

"Oh, you don't need to take off your shoes," Elias said.

The three of them exchanged glances.

"Oh, I couldn't not do that," Martin said. "My mum would kill me if I ever tried to enter the house with shoes on."

"Right there with ya, Martin," Time said

"The very thought," Jon added, shaking his head.

"Oh, okay," Elias responded, looking a little miffed. "Whatever's most comfortable for you guys, then."

Once everyone had taken off their shoes and left them by the door (for Elias didn't have anything to hold them, nor really a place to store them while they were there), Elias led them up the stairs, just to the left a little ways down the hall from the front door. The others followed slowly, trying to take it all in.

As they began down the hall once on the first floor, Jon paused, checked his balance, and then reached up and touched a sticker of a cat stretching on the wall, frowning. "Why do you have stickers on your walls?" He'd noticed the stickers in the hall on the ground floor, too.

Elias laughed. "Oh, when I'm high, I crash into anything shiny. I put them up so I'd stop doing that. You can find them all over the flat."

Jon and Martin exchanged incredulous but amused looks as Jon set his crutch back down and they continued down the hall. At the end, Tim and Sasha had stopped. Sasha had lifted her sheet, afraid the limited view the holes in the sheet provided her were skewing her vision. But, no, what she was seeing was the real deal.

Tim and Sasha stepped aside, allowing room for Jon and Martin to gawk at the sitting room, too.

The décor was gaudy and, quite honestly, a little hard to look at. But everything was very plush, very swish. It was kind of overwhelming. The sitting room was a decent size, and most of the space was taken up by two large sofas, facing each other, with pillows and throw blankets. Between the sofas was a large, ovular coffee table.

"Are coffee tables supposed to have that many levels?" Tim muttered to Sasha, who shrugged and made an "I don't know" noise.

Two small end-tables sat at next to the ends of each sofa, closest to the hall. Those tables both held identical lamps. On one table was a landline. On the far wall were three walls made completely of glass, leading out to a terrace and privatized with thick shrubbery. Adorning the walls of glass were clusters of the stickers Elias had bought.

To their left was another, slightly smaller sitting room, with only one sofa (exactly the same as the ones in the main sitting room) and a small, matching ottoman. To their right was a large dining table, big enough to fit eight people, easily. (The walls on the far side were also completely made of glass.) If there had been chairs, Elias had stored them away somewhere. The table had been cleared of any centerpieces and filled with platters of food that could've come straight from cooking magazine covers. At the end were fancy, fabric napkins, stacks of small serving plates and bowls, and utensils (forks, spoons, and chopsticks).

One platter held _Kwek Kwek_ (or orange eggs), which were boiled quail eggs coated with an orange batter and then deep-fried. Next to it was a big serving bowl of _palabok_ , a noodle dish made with _palabok_ noodles (cornstarch sticks), mixed with an orange sauce made of minced pork, tinapa flakes (smoked fish flakes) and annatto water, topped with shrimp, slices of hard-boiled eggs, crushed chicharron, and chopped scallions. Another platter was filled with _pão de queijo_ (cheese bread), which were light and fluffy cheese balls, made used soft cheese and cassava flour. Near the platter were little condiment bowls filled with three different types of soft cheeses and three different kind of jams. The platter next to it had Brazilian chicken coxinha: deep-fried croquettes made with shredded chicken and Catupiry (a soft, creamy cheese), which were coated in golden breadcrumbs before frying.

Yet another platter was filled with _sev puri_ , a spicy, sweet, tangy, chaat snack composed of _papdis_ (crisp flat fried discs), green chutney (a spicy chutney made from fresh coriander and mint leaves), sweet chutney (made from tamarind, dates and jaggery), red chutney (a spicy-hot chutney made from dry red chilies and garlic), _sev_ (crisp fried gram flour vermicelli), and veggies (chopped boiled potatoes, chopped onions and tomatoes). Next to that platter was another filled with _pani puri_ , which were crisp fried, hollow dough balls ( _puri_ ), stuffed with potatoes, sprouts, and sweet chutney. Finally, still sitting in their bamboo steamers were _baozi_ (or Chinese bread buns): steamed dough buns filled with meat and/or veggies; the last platter held _jianbing_ (Chinese crepes), which traditionally vary depending on the street vender, but were generally made by spreading the dough to fry on a griddle with egg as the base, and then was filled with scallions, lettuce, cilantro, and a rich chili sauce before being folded up.

The four of them approached the table slowly, Sasha fully taking off her costume and throwing it over her arm as she looked at the spread.

"This is…" she started.

"Quite elaborate," Jon finished, awed.

"I wanted to get a diversity of dishes," Elias explained. "Make it feel a little more like home, since I know this is probably hella weird for you guys. I know I'm technically your boss, but I consider you guys my friends, and I'm really glad you decided to come. Oh, and save room for dessert because there's cupcakes in the fridge!"

"Did you…cook all this yourself?" Tim asked. He had to make sure.

Elias shook his head. "Evil Jonas has a personal chef!"

Tim's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Jon, whispering, "Evil Jonas?"

"He means Jonah," Jon whispered back. Tim still looked confused. "Like the Jonas Brothers—it's a long story."

Elias continued over them, "But I also had to call up a bunch of restaurants to find some chefs who could prepare these dishes—well, Logan really did all that for me because I'm still getting used to all this fancy technology and, like, everything else about twentieth century."

"I think you mean twenty-first century," Jon corrected as Martin said, "He was the one who greeted us, right?"

"But we're in the two-thousands, silly, not the twenty-one hundreds," Elias said before turning to Martin—as Jon muttered, "Right." under his breath, and Tim and Sasha snickered—and saying, "Yeah, he has an official title but it's a fancy word that I can't really pronounce so I just call him the true MVP. Or my Main Man. Anyway, grab whatever you like and bring it over to the sitting room."

* * *

"I was thinking we could start with Uno," Elias said as everyone sat down and got comfortable around the overly fancy coffee table in the sitting room. Elias had put out small trays near and around the sofas in the sitting room so they could set their food and drink down and (hopefully) not accidentally spill anything. "And then I found this fun-sounding game called Exploding Kittens that I thought we could try once everyone's had their fill of food."

"Exploding Kittens? That sounds…a bit violent," Martin mumbled.

"It's actually really cute," Elias replied. "I already opened up the box—there's a bunch of fun cards with different types of cats on them, like Taco cats or Burrito cats. Here!" He held the box out for Martin to take. "You can look at it while I pass out the Uno cards."

* * *

Uno was a good choice insofar that everyone knew how to play. It was a good starter party game, especially with how awkward things felt, because it was relatively quick and easy to play.

That was until Jon turned out to be more of a bastard than any of them realized. The universe (or what have you) kept giving him the "draw 2" and "draw 4" cards. It didn't help that Elias had bought a pack with multiplier cards. And those also kept going to Jon, miraculously.

"Can you hear my heart breaking, Jon?" Tim asked as he picked up the deck and started counting out 16 cards. "Can you?"

The others snickered, glad it wasn't them, as Jon smiled at Tim. "Just comeuppance for making me wear these." Jon pointed to his cat-ear headband.

Tim rolled his eyes as he placed the deck back on the table. "I'm not the only one who made you wear those! And _I_ think you're being a little harsh." Tim flipped through his new cards, to see if he could use any of them to get back at Jon.

It was Jon's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, you haven't seen harsh yet. Remember the extra paperwork threat?"

"Tim," Sasha hissed, jokingly. "Don't make it worse for us."

"Seconded, Sasha," Martin added before pointing at Tim and looking at Jon. "Uh, we're not affiliated with him."

"You guys need to lighten up," Tim responded, playfully shoving Martin, who laughed. "Besides, you're the one who started us in on taking the paperwork punishment!"

Martin shrugged, not remorseful at all. "I was right, though." His eye flickered over to Jon. "It was worth it."

Tim was still going through his cards, the conversation momentarily distracting him, and came across a black card with a blank oval. He leaned over to Elias and showed him the card, "Hey, I think you forgot to put something on this one."

"Oh, yeah! I knew I'd missed some," Elias said. He reached for a nearby sharpie and handed it to Tim. "You pick what to put on it."

 _Oh, perfect,_ Tim thought as he took the sharpie.

And it wasn't too long before Tim got a chance to use his custom card on Jon: admit you care about Martin OR draw 25.

Sasha burst out laughing as soon as she was done reading it, while both Jon and Martin flushed, their shoulders stiffening, almost simultaneously. It was comical.

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?" Jon exclaimed (even though he _definitely_ knew) as Martin yelped, "Tim!" his voice an octave higher than it usually was. Jon also shifted, just slightly, but it was enough to cause his precariously balanced crutches resting next to him to go tumbling to the floor, only accenting how much Tim's card has flustered Jon.

Jon ignored this, however, and he and Martin both glared at Tim who was leaning against Sasha as they guffawed together, tears already in both their eyes. Elias watched amused but also a little confused, not _exactly_ sure why they found the card so funny.

"…y-your f-face—" Tim stuttered between cackles and gasping breaths.

"Wh-what's it gonna be, boss?" Sasha wheezed.

Jon's face grew hotter. "Well, you know what, just to spite you two"—his glare flickered between Tim and Sasha—"I'm drawing twenty-five."

They spent the rest of the round in a strange place with Tim and Sasha giggling every time they looked over at Jon and his 25 cards, while, contrarily, Jon and Martin sat stiffly, not meeting each other's gazes, both still blushing. (Jon's crutches still laid on the floor.)

* * *

When they were done with Uno, they moved onto Exploding Kittens, which Elias had bought the Imploding Kittens expansion pack for, as well. [The rules were relatively simple](https://explodingkittens.com/how-to-play), though Jon didn't pick it up quite as quick. Sometimes, it was just easier to play a round to get the hang of it.

The round went relatively fast. Elias was out first. Followed by Tim. Then Martin. Until they were down to the last two cards and the last two players: Jon and Sasha. They mock-glared at each other over the cards they held. No one was going to say it, but they were all thinking it: throughout the whole round, no one had hit the Imploding Kitten card (a death sentence, seeing as you couldn't play a Defuse card, unlike with the Exploding Kittens card).

That meant Sasha, whose turn it was, had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the Imploding Kitten.

She let out a breath of relief as she picked up the second to last card, which was decidedly not the Imploding Kitten.

"Sorry, Jon," she said setting the card into the discard pile, leaving the lone Imploding Kitten faceup on the table. "Looks like I won this round."

Jon simply smiled before pulling out a card that turned the last card, the Imploding Kitten, onto Sasha.

"Oh, shit!" Elias exclaimed, reaching over to hi-five Jon as Tim and Martin let out surprised exclamations.

Tim scoffed jokingly. "So unfair. You were the most confused about the rules of the game!"

Jon shrugged. "I actually figured it out about half-way through and kept up the ruse so you'd continue to underestimate me."

Sasha shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips as he glared playfully at Jon. "You're a conniving bastard, you know that, Jon."

"Oh, I'm"—he reached up to readjust his glasses—"well aware."

Elias then exclaimed, "Time for cupcakes!"

They all got up, leaving the mess of empty dishes and cards where they were, and followed Elias into the kitchen (which was just around a hidden corner next to where the dining table was). Instead of taking the (gourmet) cupcakes back out to the sitting room, they all opted to stay in the kitchen.

Elias set the tray of cupcakes on the counter before taking a seat on the counter. Elias asked if Jon wanted a chair brought in but Jon just shook his head before carefully hopping up on the counter, on the other side of the cupcakes, resting his crutches against the counter and his leg.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin all stayed standing. Martin leaned up against the counter, next ot Jon, and Tim and Sasha leaned against the wall opposite the counter.

The cupcakes were decorated with black-and-orange, swirled icing. The cupcakes themselves were dyed—the chocolate ones dark enough to look black, the orange ones were vanilla.

They chatted easily, feeling much more comfortable now than when they'd first arrived. As Elias was finishing his second cupcake he jolted and exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot, I have something for you guys! Be right back!" He jumped off the counter and ran out of the kitchen.

When he returned, Elias was holding what looked to be a bear from Build-A-Bear Workshop, dressed in a dark purple tee with a cartoonish skull on it, wearing a headband with two little bats attached to thin wires. He went to sit on the counter again.

"I got you guys a present," Elias said. "This is Bert, the Bad News Bear. I've noticed you guys like to give bad news a lot. And, no offense, but it's a real bummer. So I propose a new rule: to make it less of a bummer, if you're gonna give bad news, you have to be holding Bert."

"I'm down with that," Tim said, because of course he would be.

Sasha snickered. "Are we allowed to dress him up for other holidays?"

Elias grinned. "Yeah, in fact, that's what I was hoping we could do!"

"Then I'm in," Sasha said.

"You guys are being ridiculous again," Jon muttered, shaking his head—bold words coming from someone still wearing a cat-ear headband—but even tiny movements dislodged his crutches, and this time was no exception. One of Jon's crutches began to slide and fall from where it was leaning against the counter. Martin noticed the same time as Jon and reached for it just as Jon did. Their hands brushed and they both froze. Martin pulled away, face ablaze, as Jon repositioned his crutch and looked up at Martin, his own face warm.

"Sorry, uh, I j-just didn't want it to fall," Martin tried to explain. "B-but if you don't want to me do that in the future—"

"N-no, no, it's fine," Jon stuttered back. "Th-thank you, Martin."

Silence fell between them and Martin glanced over at Tim and Sasha, who were sharing a knowing look, just in time to see Tim open his mouth, about to comment. (In reality, he was about to start singing "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" from _The Lion King_.)

"Anyway," Martin said loudly, before Tim could say sing anything. "Bert is pretty cute. Y-you can't deny that. He-he could be like an…archive mascot."

Jon, grateful that Martin was turning back to the previous line of conversation, said, "We don't _need_ a mascot. It's an archive." But a small smile played at his lips.

"Well, either way, it sounds like you're outnumbered, boss," Tim said, mercifully dropping the hand-brush.

"Great! I'll bring him in on Monday," Elias said, setting Bert next to him before grabbing another cupcake. Halfway through that cupcake his eyebrows furrowed and he asked, "Hey, Jon, can I ask you a question?"

Jon paused, before reluctantly saying, "…okay."

"Why are you hitting on such a youngster like Martin?" Elias asked.

There was a moment of quiet before Tim and Sasha burst into a fit of giggles, trying their best not to let it get into full-blown belly-laughter. Their stomachs and cheeks were still sore from the "draw 25" card.

Martin's face went beet red right before he put his head in his hands and muttering, "Oh, god."

Jon lowered his head and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, sad, heavy sigh.

Elias looked around at everyone, confused by their reactions. "What'd I say?"

"I-I'm…" Jon started, lifting his head and readjusting his glasses. "I'm the same age as Martin, Elias."

Tim's giggles stopped abruptly and he looked at Jon in shock. Jon took offense and bristled like a cat (which was quite fitting).

"Wait, what?" Tim asked.

"You didn't know?" Martin asked, incredulous enough to come out of his shell.

"You _did_?" Tim asked. Not waiting for a response, he continued, "I always thought when Sasha said you weren't thirty-eight, she meant you were older."

"Wait, _how_ much older?" Jon asked.

"…well, now I don't wanna say."

Sasha snorted. "We thought you were like fifty, Jon."

"'We'?" Tim asked, looking at Sasha. "You knew he was younger and didn't tell me."

"Well, yeah, before I hacked—found out his real age," Sasha responded. "Then, I thought it would be funnier if I let you keep believing he was older." She paused. "And I was right."

Tim gripped his chest, where his heart was, melodramatically. "Two betrayals in one night. I may never recover."

"Wait." Elias blinked slowly. They could all see the gears turning in his head, then when the realization hit him and he threw his arms down. "Oh, man! That means I'm the oldest here!"

Jon still wasn't over what Sasha had said, however, and said, "You thought I was _how_ old?" Now, Jon _did_ think that the grey in his hair made him look more distinguished, sure. And older wasn't _bad_ , especially in academia, he thought. He was also quite used to people mistaking him for being older than he was. But _fifty_? That was pushing it just a little.

"It's probably the grey in your hair, dude," Elias said, oblivious to the…everything going on. But he did notice the slightly embarrassed look Jon got at that and quickly added, "Oh, but that's not a bad thing. Chicks dig a little grey." He looked between Martin and Jon and added, "And dudes. Dudes dig a little grey, too. People," he correct, "there are people who dig a little grey." Then, trying to be a good friend, he grinned at Martin, giving him a double thumbs-up.

Jon's face flushed deeply. Martin groaned, hiding his head back in his hands, muttering, "Oh, god," again but more distressed and tacked on, "kill me now."

Tim and Sasha were back in Stifled Giggles Mode, while Elias had turned back to the cupcakes.

* * *

"Hey, Martin," Tim exclaimed, half-offended, as Martin passed by Tim's desk—which was now flooded with stacks of papers, files, and a box or two—with a cup of tea. "Why aren't you drowning in extra paperwork like me and Sasha?"

Martin took a sip of his tea, trying to help his satisfied smirk (and not, at all, succeeding). He readjusted his glasses and finally said, "Because Jon said I was 'off the hook.'"

"That's not fair!" Sasha's exclaimed. Martin and Tim (who stood) both looked over to her desk but she was lost among the papers and files and boxes…until she bolted up from her chair and appeared from the mess. "You're the one who started it!"

Martin shrugged, his smirk only growing bigger. "What can I say, I guess Jon has a soft spot for me, after all." He turned, then, toward Jon's office and raised his mug in cheers. Jon, who was leaning against his desk, facing his open office door with a half-smirk on his face, raised his own mug before pushing his door closed with one of his crutches. Martin headed back to his gloriously clean desk as Tim and Sasha exchanged looks and spluttered indignantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alkdjklfj okay I know I haven't described any of them as far  
> as physical characteristics go, but here's the low-down (as well as, tangentially, which dish was made for whom):
> 
> Desi Jon! (tbqh I see-saw between Pakistani and Indian)  
> Half-Chinese Marto because ~~I'm not projecting _at all_~~ the HC that his mother is white, his father Chinese and Martin looking like exactly like his father breaks my heart in the best and worst ways possible.  
> Filipino Tim  
> Afro-Brazilian Sasha
> 
> A fun little interlude. idk how to write parties but I hope I did well!
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/625724037655576576/chapter-10-paperwork-punishment)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	11. A British Accent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> SPIDERS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alkjlkdf my muse can only focus on one thing at a time, and for the past few weeks it's been a fan video for the movie _the old guard_. you should totally go watch it. shameless self-promo, you should also totally go check out [my fanvid](https://youtu.be/B7KzMwh3Mkw).
> 
> i don't think you need to watch the movie before the vid, but the vid does have major spoilers so, watch at your own risk. **content warnings are in the description of the vid.** it's the first time i've been able to make a video from clips that don't look like i filmed from my phone while watching the movie on my tv screen, so i'm very excited and wanted to share with everyone and anyone who'll listen
> 
> but anyway, all that to say, sorry this took me so long. i've finished the video so my muse can now focus on this again.
> 
> AND THEN I GOT FUCKING WRITER'S BLOCK
> 
> anyway
> 
>  **IMPORTANT STORY-RELATED NOTE, PLEASE READ:** i decided i'm gonna have jon be more explicitly disabled than originally planned. and bc i was never one to half-ass shenanigans, i back-edited the first 10 chapters to fit that more readily. i will have a detailed list of the things i changed linked to a tungle post in the end notes so you don't have to go reread everything unless you want to. **the most important detail you need to know right now is that jon uses forearm crutches due to damage in both legs (right leg worse than the left) caused by prentiss's worms.**
> 
> special thanks to the true mvp @justletmeremember for chatting with me about it, as well as answering my questions and inquiries
> 
> and with that, onto the next chapter! there's some dialogue from mag56 children of the night, but i changed it up a bit so it wouldn't seem tedious, ig.
> 
>  **Content Warnings:** spiders/spider mention (which won't be described in detail), lil angst (like just a sprinkle), hints/allusion to manipulation, paranoia regarding manipulation. there is a slightly more detailed explanation regarding the manipulation (that contains spoilers) at the end of the chapter if you need it. lmk if you think i need to add anything else.

When Jon found the second half of Trevor Herbert's statement his paranoia came back swiftly, suddenly, and without mercy. It wasn't that he _didn't_ trust Martin. It was more like, paranoia was just like that. (It also reminded Jon of that ripped up, false-start note Martin had thrown away when he'd been staying in the archives.) It helped that he now knew a helluva lot more than he did before, but paranoia did not operate on rationality. So when he finished recording the statement, he called Martin into his office.

Jon's demeanor tipped Martin off that something was wrong. As he slowly slid into one of the empty chairs facing Jon's desk, Jon slammed the door with, perhaps, too much force using his crutch. And was Martin imagining things, or was the sound of Jon's crutches hitting the floor louder than usual?

Jon sat down heavily in his chair, practically throwing his crutches into the corner behind him where his bookshelf met the wall. Martin flinched, his mind racing as what this could be about.

Jon turned in his chair to face Martin but his eyes were far away—his thoughts a swirling mess, trying to keep his tone down but his paranoia battling that every step of the way.

When Jon didn't say anything for a long time, Martin quietly started, "Jon—"

Jon's eyes cleared and he focused in on Martin before snapping, "Why did you lie to me about Trevor?"

Martin shook his head and shrugged stiffly. "I don't—"

" _Trevor Herbert_ ," Jon interrupted again. "The vampire hunter. You told me he died."

Martin blinked. "…he did, didn't he?"

Jon grabbed the second half of Trevor's statement and waved it at Martin before throwing it on his desk.

"Oh, sorry!" Martin quickly apologized, glancing down at the statement.

Jon sat back and scoffed. " _Sorry?_ "

Martin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I-I mean, I never actually met him. I just heard some of the researchers talking about it."

Jon's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah, well, I swear they said he'd died." Martin shifted again. "I mean, m-maybe they just said he looks like death and I heard it wrong. O-or misremembered."

Jon ran both of his hands through his hair. "So that's it, then? Just a misunderstanding?"

"…y-yes. You seem to be taking this kind of personal—"

"Because you keep lying to me, Martin!" Jon snapped, slamming one of his hands down on his desk.

"About what?!"

Jon pushed away some other papers on his desk as he said, "I don't know, but you are." When he found what he was looking for, he brandished it for Martin to see, who snatched it away as his face turned red.

"Where did you get that?" Martin asked. "Have you been going through the bin—?"

"It was in the old document room, just next to where you used to sleep. Your handwriting—'If the others find out I've been lying.' Lying about _what_ , Martin?"

Martin's sagged in his seat, letting his hands fall into his lap. "Look, just forget about it, okay? Please?"

Jon sighed. "I can't do that. Not after finding out you lied about Trevor."

"Jon, please—"

" _Martin!_ "

"Okayokayokay!" Martin shifted again, looking down and covering his face. "Oh god, this is so embarrassing." Martin heard Jon suck in a breath and quickly looked up and said, "I lied on my CV."

Jon blinked, his shoulders sagging. "…what?"

Martin sighed. "I don't have a Master's in Parapsychology. I don't even have a degree. I was seventeen. My mum…she had-she had some problems and I ended up dropping out of school trying to support us. I tried everything but nowhere was hiring, so I just kind of…started to lie on my application; sending them out to just about anywhere. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias. Or, Evil Jonas, rather—now that I think about it, he probably knew and hired me anyway. Anyway, I got a job here. But most of my employment details are made up."

Slowly, Jon sat back in his chair, a smile pulling at his lips.

Martin looked at him, confused. "…why are you smiling?"

"I'm just…relieved," Jon admitted.

"You believe me?"

"You sound surprised."

Martin shrugged and made some noncommittal gesture at Jon's desk. "You just seemed…really agitated a moment ago."

"I believe you," Jon assured, giving Martin a smile.

"Good," Martin squeaked, his heart doing a somersault in his chest. He tried for a smile back and _hoped_ it wasn't goofy-looking. In a slightly more normal, but still flustered, voice he added, "Thanks. Uh…I'll just…" He gestured to the door. Jon nodded. Martin tried for another small smile before unsteadily standing and exiting Jon's office.

He was so caught up in the warm fuzzies in his chest that he almost didn't notice Tim and Sasha darting away from either side of Jon's door as he closed it. Martin froze and his face blazed red.

"Were you guys eavesdropping?" he hissed.

Tim and Sasha looked up at him innocently and intoned simultaneously, "Noooo."

"You guys are unbelievable," Martin muttered, quickly making his way back to his desk. Tim and Sasha followed, congregating around his desk.

"It's not like it's a big secret," Tim said in a quiet voice. "I mean, you _told_ me you lied on your CV."

"And I, uh"—Sasha cleared her throat—"you know, found out the usual way I find things out."

Martin's jaw dropped. "Sasha!" Then blinked and shook his head. "So then th-there was no reason for you to eavesdrop, was there?"

"We were curious," Tim defended.

"I mean, did you _hear_ Jon's tone? You were _in trouble_ ," Sasha added.

"You guys are children," Martin scolded. "This isn't primary school. I wasn't called to the headmaster's office." Tim opened his mouth but Martin pointed at him and quickly said, "Don't."

Tim held up his hands in surrender as he and Sasha exchanged a look.

"You guys are insufferable," Martin muttered as he looked down at his paperwork and picked up his pencil.

"Aw, but you love us anyway," Tim said.

* * *

"It had to be a _Web_ book, didn't it," Jon muttered into his mid-morning tea.

"Didn't you choose—?" Martin started.

"It was the only one that we could find!" Jon interrupted. They were sitting at Martin's desk, with their respective teacups.

Jon continued, "It was practically a gimme. They were putting it up for auction. If I could just _find_ Gertrude's laptop—"

"How do you know that slang?"

"I know _some_ slang," Jon defended. He took a sip of his tea, then, "You know, you guys ask me that every other day."

Martin snorted. "That's an exaggera—"

"It's not," Jon deadpanned before taking another sip of his tea. "I've kept track."

"You've been keeping tra—?"

A package, a small brown cardboard box, landed with a hard _smack_ onto Martin's desk, interrupting him, and causing both him and Jon to jump. They both nearly spilled their tea and Jon knocked over his crutches, which had been resting against Martin's desk.

They both glared up at Tim, who stood behind them, grinning.

"We have a Leitner," Tim said as Jon sighed and set his teacup down before leaning over to pick up his crutches, resting them back against Martin's desk.

Sasha rolled her eyes at Tim's antics. She was standing behind him. "I'll go get Leitner," she said. Tim opened his mouth to respond but she gave him a look and said, "The man."

"You ruin all my fun," Tim joked as Sasha headed off.

"Oh, but you still love me," she called over her shoulder.

Tim's grin turned into a fond smile and he said softly, not loud enough for Sasha to hear, "I do."

Martin snorted. "Now who's the lovesick one?"

Jon stifled a snicker but held up one of his hands and hi-fived Martin as Tim shook his head and sighed.

* * *

"Why do _I_ have to open it?" Jon demanded.

After Sasha returned with Leitner, Jon and Martin had stood to make more room for everyone to see the book. Not that they really _needed_ to, but power in numbers and all that, right?

The package was still lying on Martin's desk, unopened.

"Well because you're Head Archivist," Tim said in a half-joking, half-serious tone.

"Not just Head Archivist," Sasha added, also in a half-joking, half-serious tone. "He's _the_ Archivist, too."

Jon huffed. "I don't think that entitles me to handle Leitners at all. The last time I touched a Leitner, it released a horse that's faster than the wind." And the first time he'd touched a Leitner, it hadn't gone quite so well, either. But you already knew that, dear reader.

"Did you just forget I was here or something?" Leitner asked, bringing everyone's attention to him.

Jon glared at him. "Always. On purpose."

Leitner ignored him and snatched up a pair of scissors from a penholder on Martin's desk. He swiftly cut open the box and reached inside. Out of the packing peanuts came a fancy wooden box with a small latch. Leitner set the cardboard box down on the ground and the wooden box gently on Martin's desk. The archival staff ventured closer, their curiosity pulling them toward Leitner and the box, even though they knew what was in it already.

Jon stayed back, glaring a hole in the back of Leitner's head.

Leitner unlatched the hook and slowly opened the box. Laying inside the padded and silk interior, was a first edition, signed copy of _Charlotte's Web_ by E. B. White. He carefully took it out of the box, took a moment to examine it—well, more like admire it. For as much as he regretted having collected them and then so recklessly letting them out into the world, he still revered them on some level. It wasn't nostalgia. He _certainly_ didn't miss sacrificing assistants for what he thought was the greater good (though he didn't necessarily regret it, either). But the power these seemingly harmless books held…well there was just something about wielding them he couldn't quite explain.

Carefully, gently, he set it back down inside the box and sighed, straightening up and taking a step back.

"No time to waste," he said, turning to look at Jon. "I will help you burn it."

Jon opened his mouth to respond when he saw movement coming from the box. His eyes zeroed in on a spider and he instinctively moved closer, lifting one of his crutches to crush the spider. Before he could, however, Leitner shouted, "Wait!"

Jon ended up hitting the spot next to the spider, which froze, and he quickly pulled his crutch back because 1) he was about to lose his balance and 2) he _did not_ want that spider crawling onto his crutch.

"What do you mean 'wait'?" Jon asked, not taking his eyes off the spider.

"Did it come from the book?" Leitner asked, his tone now urgent.

"Wh—I don't know! I mean, I guess it looked like it came from the box. What does it matter?"

Leitner sighed. "This is not good."

"It never is," Jon griped.

"Wait, what's not good?" Tim asked, glancing worriedly at the spider and taking a step back. "What does it mean if a spider comes out of the book?"

"That means there's probably an avatar attached to this book, and they'll probably come looking for it," Leitner said.

"You got that from a _spider_ crawling out of the book?" Jon asked incredulously.

"This isn't just any spider, Jon," Leitner said, seriously. "This is Charlotte."

It was silent for a moment.

"W-wait a minute, you-you're not saying—" Martin stuttered, pointing at the spider.

"I am," Leitner nodded.

Indeed, upon closer inspection, the spider that had crawled from the book and that Jon had almost killed, was a barn spider.

Charlotte lifted one of her legs and waved. "Hello!"

Everyone except Leitner froze in shock, eyes widening, minds reeling.

"…I-I…someone must have slipped me acid or something," Jon mumbled, finally looking away from Charlotte. He felt very unsteady, which wasn't uncommon these days, but he was sure it wasn't due to his legs or because he was still getting used to using crutches this time.

Tim lifted a hand to his forehead. "We can't have all been slipped acid."

"She just talked!" Martin finally shouted.

"Traditionally," Charlotte started, crawling up to the top of the lid, "I'd spell out messages using my web. But it's just easier and faster this way."

Sasha pointed at Charlotte. "Okay, is it just me, or does she also have a British accent."

" _That's_ what's weirding you out right now?" Tim asked.

"Well, _Charlotte's Web_ was written by someone from the States, right? So shouldn't she have, like, an accent from that region in the U.S.?" Sasha explained.

"Well, she's not, _technically_ , talking," Leitner said.

"Oh, god, here we go," Tim muttered as Jon made his way over to a free chair, far away from Charlotte, and took a seat, holding his crutches in front of him and leaning on them, staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

"It's complicated," Leitner began, which got an exasperated groan from everyone else. "The best way I can describe it is that because it _is_ easier for Charlotte to speak, rather than communicate through web, she can simply speak."

"Well that clears it all up," Martin commented sarcastically.

Leitner ignored him, "You're hearing a British accent because subconsciously it sets you more at ease." Jon snorted at this. "It's a bit like how the fears can manifest in our world. It's hard to say if they exist on a different plane or some dimension that is right next to ours, occasionally dipping into our dimension or plane, but they certainly exist in some capacity. However, our fears morph and shape how they may manifest."

"Okay, wait, what about all this tells you there's an avatar attached to the book?" Sasha asked.

"I'm here to help," Charlotte said. "Just like I help Wilbur in the book."

"Help as in…?" Martin trailed off.

"Burn the book," Leitner confirmed. "Which means there's an avatar that we need to take care of first, before we _can_ burn it."

Tim sat down, shaking his head. "This is too weird. I didn't think it could get any weirder. I feel like the probability that we were all slipped bad acid is more likely than whatever's happening right now."

"W-won't burning the book take care of the avatar, though?" Martin asked, trying to ignore Tim's ramblings. Even if he did feel the same. "If the book is the avatar's source of power…or-or something?"

"How did whoever was selling it manage to get it away from the avatar?" Sasha asked before Leitner could answer Martin's question.

"Okay, but _why_ would Charlotte help us if she's part of the book, which is part of one of the fears?" Tim asked.

Leitner paused.

"We're going to hate you either way, so just tell us," Jon snapped, glaring at Leitner, who glared back.

" _She's_ not connected to the fear, just the book," Leitner said, finally looking away from Jon and at the archival assistants, who were giving him blank looks. "It's difficult to explain—"

"Isn't it _always_ ," Jon interrupted.

Leitner sighed. "The fear brought the book to life, hence: Charlotte. But Charlotte isn't a manifestation of The Web, she's a manifestation of the book. Because she's a spider, however, she can…'communicate,' in a sense, with The Web."

"More like tap into the radio frequency," Charlotte said. "So to speak. If I were to directly communicate with The Web, I would be completely taken over."

"Oh, so she's a spider that knows physics, now?" Tim asked as Jon asked, "How do we know she's not lying?" He glared at Charlotte, and continued, "It's The Web. There's nothing to trust about it."

Leitner turned back to Jon. "I've put all the books of my library through rigorous testing, remember."

"You mean, you sacrificed another assistant," Jon hissed.

Leitner's hands balled into fists. "I could do without the commentary."

"I'm sure you could," Jon shot back.

"I've put it through rigorous testing," Leitner repeated, turning back to the other assistants. "Not once did Charlotte do anything to harm me or any of my assistants. Not when I was testing the books, nor throughout the entire time I kept it in my library."

"I actually continually tried to convince him to burn the book," Charlotte said. "To no avail. I try to dissuade anyone who comes into contact with my book, but it's very difficult to get people to listen to you when you're a spider. The Web is also a much more powerful force than I am."

"So, wait, _why_ can't we just burn the book?" Martin asked again.

"Burning the book won't get rid of the avatar," Leitner answered. "In fact, it will most likely only anger the avatar. I'd prefer leverage and an avatar that isn't filled with blinding rage."

"Okay," Sasha said. "Then how did we even get it away from its current avatar?"

Jon sighed, hanging his head. "A trojan horse."

"What?" Martin asked.

Jon lifted his head and looked over at the others. "The avatar sold it on purpose. Trying to make a go at the Institute, probably."

Tim frowned. "But how would they have known you would be able to out-bid everyone, though?"

"The Web is subtle manipulation," Leitner explained. "I've heard some refer to it as The Mother of Puppets. Spider's silk is five times as strong as the same weight of steel. And The Web spins its silk, subtly pulls strands, and it's like a ripple effect—carefully manipulating its victims into doing whatever it is The Web wants or needs them to do. It's not about instant gratification. The Web plays the long game."

"…are you saying The Web somehow _made_ this happen?" Martin asked.

"It's quite possible," Leitner said.

"Then how are we supposed to beat this avatar?" Tim asked.

"Charlotte—" Leitner began.

"How are we supposed to _trust_ anything she says?" Jon burst.

Leitner turned to face Jon but Jon glared back and spoke before Leitner could, "You're explanation doesn't make any sense. The book belongs to The Web. So it stands to reason that anything that comes _out_ of the book _also_ belongs to The Web. I don't care _what_ your _tests_ showed. You just said it yourself: The Web likes to play the long game. How do we know, Charlotte isn't a part of that?!"

"Jon," Leitner started slowly.

Jon repositioned his crutches so he could stand and cut off Leitner, shaking his head, "No! I—no! I don't want to entertain this nonsense. And apparently, there is yet another threat on the way to the Institute." He began to head toward his office.

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Back to my office," Jon replied. "I just…need a moment."

"We may not have a moment," Leitner said. Jon ignored him, struggled to get his door open while balancing on one crutch because he was agitated, and then slammed his office door quite hard (harder than he meant to) once inside.

The archival assistants exchanged glances.

"I'll go talk to him," Martin finally said. Tim and Sasha blinked in surprise and Martin flushed. "What?" Not giving either of them time to answer he continued, "You guys start talking about how we're going to defeat this new avatar."

Once again, not waiting to give any of them time to answer, Martin made his way to Jon's office door as Leitner, Sasha, and Tim began chatting.

Martin quietly knocked on Jon's door. "Jon?" he called and waited. "I…I'm coming in, okay?" He waited again and when he didn't hear Jon respond, he slowly turned the door knob and pushed open the door. "Jon?" he asked as he looked in.

At first, Martin didn't see Jon and panicked but when he spotted Jon's crutches sticking out from behind his desk, Martin's heart stopped beating so quickly. Still quicker than normal, but slower than when he thought Jon had disappeared.

"Jon?" Martin asked again, taking a tentative step in and craned his neck. Jon was sitting, curled up in the corner he usually put his crutches. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, one arm resting on his elbow, hand covering his eyes.

"Can I-can I come in?" Martin asked. Even though he was technically already inside Jon's office. Martin waited and when Jon didn't respond, he began to exit, his heart sinking.

"Don't…"

Martin paused and turned back around. "Jon?"

Jon had taken his hand from his eyes. Both of his arms were now resting on his knees. He wasn't looking at Martin, looking down and picking at his shirt-sleeve. Martin waited.

Jon's eyes finally flickered up to him as he said, "Don't go." and then quickly looked away.

Martin swallowed hard before turning and closing the door before slowly and awkwardly making his way around Jon's desk to go sit next to him. He pressed his back to the wall and left a few inches between them, his heart racing out of control, now for a totally different reason.

Martin mimicked Jon, pulling his knees to his chest. After a moment of silence, he rested his hands on his knees and drummed his fingers against them, glancing over at Jon. He'd folded his arms over his knees and was resting his chin on them, half-hiding his face. He was staring at a spot on his desk but glanced over at Martin through the corners of his eyes.

For his credit, Martin fought the urge to look away. "D-do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his face slowly turning red.

Jon looked away. "No."

"Oh." Martin looked away, feeling his heart sink again.

"Just…n-not right now," Jon added in a softer tone. Martin looked back at Jon, who was looking at him. Jon gave him a small smile. Martin felt his heart do _several_ backflips and tried to return Jon's smile. He hoped he succeeded. (He had.) They both looked away. Martin hoped his heart wasn't beating so loud Jon could hear it because it sure felt like it was.

"I'm sorry," Martin finally said, just to hear something other than the blood roaring in his ears.

"Hm?"

"Sorry about whatever happened. I-I…assume it had something to do with a Leitner book that belonged to The Web."

"You're not the one who should be apologizing," Jon muttered, glaring the door.

"Still, I'm sorry it happened," Martin said.

Jon's eyes flickered back to Martin, his gaze softening. "Thank you."

After another moment of silence, Jon asked, "Do you think we should trust… _her_? Charlotte?"

Martin blew out a breath. "It's hard to say," he said honestly. "I mean, like you said, it directly contradicts what Leitner told us about The Web."

"But…?"

"But I don't know if we have much choice." Martin paused. "I mean, if they made spider lie detectors…"

Jon snorted and playfully shoved Martin, who snickered.

* * *

"So, have you decided that you can trust Charlotte, now?" Leitner asked as Martin and Jon exited Jon's office.

Jon glared at Leitner as he made his way over to the group with Martin.

Finally he said, "Begrudgingly."

"What did we miss?" Martin asked.

"The avatar will be arriving in the next few days," Sasha said.

"We'll need some kind of fire-power," Tim added.

"Great, I'll just grab my flame-thrower from my flat," Jon deadpanned.

Tim rolled his eyes and playfully shoved Jon. Except it was a little too hard, and seeing as Jon's balance wasn't the same, Jon started falling, one of his crutches catching on the carpet.

"Oh, shit!" Tim exclaimed, grabbing Jon's arm and steadying him as Martin said, "Careful," and reached for Jon, too.

Tim's face flushed red with shame and he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "Sorry, sorry. I-I…sorry." He let go of Jon's arm.

"It's alright," Jon said, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Just…be more careful next time."

"Of course," Tim nodded, clearing his throat. Then his eyes flickered to Jon's arm and he grinned. Jon looked too, to see Martin still cupping his elbow.

Jon's head snapped up as his face flushed. Martin stiffened and pulled his hand away.

"Sorry," Martin squeaked, his face also turning red.

"N-no, it's fine," Jon stuttered.

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Leitner said loudly, drawing attention back to him. "As you're both avatars of the Eye"—he looked at Jon and Sasha—"that should help us gain the upper hand long enough to defeat this Web avatar. Along with Charlotte's help."

Sasha gently nudged Jon with her elbow. "Eye buddies!"

Jon's expression softened and he smiled. "You should put that on a pin."

"Don't give me ideas." Sasha winked.

"So we have a few days to plan," Jon said in a more serious tone.

"And find a way to make cheap flame-throwers," Martin added.

"This better not happen every time we decide to burn a Leitner," Tim said. "I'm getting a little tired of entities attacking the Institute."

The others, sans Leitner, made noncommittal noises of agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [back-edited ch notes](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/627359397116624896/jon-uses-crutches-now-bc-i-said-so-back-edit-list)
> 
> couple of notes:  
> 1) If I missed anything in the back-edited chapters, and/or of you think there are details I can add in to make Jon's experience with crutches more realistic (past, present, or future), feel free to lmk!  
> 2) As this is, first and foremost, a comedy (with bits of angst and horror mixed in), I wanted to explicitly and definitively confirm that the fears are more benign (in a sense) to fit the mood of this story, which also means that, **although there was some manipulation as far as getting the book to the Institute went, and despite what Leitner says about The Web, all the characters' actions are their own. The Web is not manipulating them, nor does it have any sort of Long Con game-plan in this AU.** That is one of my very big, very upsetting squicks, and I figure at least one of my readers might feel the same way, so this is your definitive blanket reassurance, **Word of God** , that there is NOT a "bigger picture manipulation" thing going on, nor will there ever be.
> 
> another quick thanks to @justletmeremember for helping me pick out a Leitner book!
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/627359678003806209/chapter-11-a-british-accent)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	12. More Wonderful News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> SPIDERS: PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** spiders (which won't be described in detail), and a little body horror involving spider legs, eyes, lil mention of teeth. lmk if i need to add anything!

"Why do _I_ have to hold Bert?" Jon asked, consciously reminding himself not to shift in his chair, lest his crutches slide off the side of his leg, where they rested.

"Because it annoys you, boss," Tim responded easily, giving Jon a shit-eating grin when he looked up at Tim from where he was sitting.

Jon opened his mouth to retort but the sound of Elias's footsteps bounding down the stairs cut him off, seconds before he came around the corner.

"Hey, guys, I got your text," he said. "What's up—?" He froze when he saw Bert, sitting in Jon's lap and groaned, throwing his arms down. "Aw man! Okay, give it to me quick, like breaking a bone."

"…I think you mean ripping off a Band-Aid," Jon corrected. "You're thinking of a clean break."

"A clean break of what?" Elias asked. The archival staff snickered.

Jon closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. "Never mind." He opened his eyes again. "You remember Leitner, right? And his books?"

Elias nodded, eyes narrowing, reaching up to stroke his chin with his finger. "The Lighter guy. With the haunted books."

"…sure," Jon said slowly as the archival assistants snickered again, this time louder as it was harder to contain their amusement. "Well, we…found one of those…h-haunted books but now an avatar is coming to attack the Institute because they want the book back."

Elias nodded again. "'Avatar,'" He repeated slowly. "They have superpowers, right?"

"Y-yes, except the one coming probably isn't a good person."

"So like a super-villain?"

Jon made a face. "A-a little…"

Before Jon could explain more, Leitner appeared. Charlotte rested on his shoulder.

"We have a problem," he said, sounding breathless.

"When do we not?" Martin muttered as Tim said, " _Quelle surprise_."

Leitner ignored Martin and Tim, opening his mouth to answer but Jon and Sasha stiffened, then hissed, " **He's here!** "

* * *

Rosie waited in front of Elias's door for Gregory to arrive. Hands folded professionally in front of her.

Gregory ambled up the stairs and turned down the hall that would lead to Elias Bouchard's office. Being an avatar of The Web made it fairly easy to "talk" to other avatars about Elias, about the Institute.

He wasn't, however, expecting the Institute's secretary to be waiting for him at the end of the hall with a smile that, despite being an avatar, unnerved him. It wasn't horrifying. It wasn't even uncanny valley. It was just…pleasant. But there was something in her eyes that made his skin crawl (ironically enough).

"Hi there," Rosie said when Gregory got close enough to hear her (and read her nametag). She tilted her head slightly. "Elias is out of the office today, would you like to make an appointment?"

Gregory stopped where he was and eyed Rosie, then the closed door behind her. He thought about his chances of shoving her aside and opening the door. They were probably good. She didn't look like she'd seen a fight, let alone been in one. The door could be locked, but that wouldn't hold him back for very long, either. He didn't _necessarily_ have to resort to violence. Being an avatar of The Web had its perks.

But when Gregory looked back at Rosie, his skin felt itchy and something told him he shouldn't use compulsion on her. He could probably still take her in a fight.

"Are you here to make a statement?" Rosie asked when Gregory didn't answer her first question, keeping that pleasant, customer-service smile. "The archives are in the basement." She stepped forward. Gregory didn't want to move, take a step back, but it seemed strange the impulse had hit him that he should.

Rosie continued, "Are you hear for your book?"

 _That_ had been truly unexpected.

Gregory felt himself bristle.

Rosie took another step toward him. She gestured to the end of the hall and said, "I can escort you down to the archives, if you'd like."

It had to be a trap of some kind. Maybe he should leave now and regroup. Do some reconnaissance when no one was here. He really should've expected something like this, the Institute belonging to The Eye and all. He hadn't expected their secretary to be so unsettling, though. From what he'd heard about The Eye, the fear, and thus its avatars, it didn't seem like much of a threat. He was now rethinking that assumption.

Gregory had just decided he was going to leave when he felt a chill run down his spine. They were doing something with his book!

He stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath. Rosie stepped even closer, still with that unnerving customer-service smile.

"Would you like me to escort you to the archives?" she asked again.

Gregory stared at her for a long moment, considering his options. Would Rosie let him leave? He could still take her in a fight. Would he still be able to do any reconnaissance now that she knew he was here? Probably not, if Rosie was anything to go by. He briefly thought he could kill her but the employees here would _certainly_ notice that.

Finally, Gregory nodded. Once, a quick jerk of the head.

"Wonderful," Rosie said. "Follow me." She brushed past him and headed back the way Gregory had come.

The walk was silent except for the sound of Rosie's shoes as she walked. Gregory followed behind, feeling more and more unnerved. He could attack her now, when she wasn't looking, but every time he thought about it, that same weird feeling hit him—the feeling that it wouldn't be a good idea.

When they passed the entrance, Gregory's eyes flickered to the doors, thinking maybe he could dart out and come back another time, but another chill ran down his spine. No, he wanted to get his book back. He had a better chance of getting it now, rather than leaving, letting Rosie tell them, and then giving them time to prepare.

* * *

Gregory didn't like the archives. He didn't feel great stepping into the Institute, itself. Going down into the archives was worse, somehow.

Rosie stopped when she turned the corner, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the open, common workspace. Gregory slowed his pace, looking suspiciously at Rosie, unsure of what to expect when he did turn the corner.

What he actually saw, however, was nowhere near what he expected. It was easy to pick out the Archivist (or, Jon, as the other avatars had told him), as he gave off some kind of…aura, for the lack of a better word. Another man stood next to him, East Asian. For some, very, _very_ strange reason, he had a belt around his waist, and it was completely filled with cans of hairspray.

Gregory looked at the third person…and froze when he saw Elias. He turned to glare, accusingly at Rosie.

"You said he wasn't in," he said. Not that it _really_ mattered.

"I lied," Rosie replied easily.

"She does that sometimes," Jon said, bringing Gregory's attention back to him briefly.

"I do that sometimes," Rosie repeated, like it was some kind of inside joke.

"Thank you, Rosie," Jon said.

"Of course." With that, she turned and headed back up the stairs.

Gregory turned back to the three, frowning. He could sense they had the book with them. Except, now that he was face-to-face with the Archivist, he found his priorities shifting.

"You have something of mine," Gregory finally said, not wanting to reveal his shifting priorities. Maybe he could catch them off-guard and kill two birds with one stone. So to speak.

"You put it up for auction," Jon said. "So, technically speaking, it belongs to me. Well, him, actually"—Jon nodded to Elias—"since we used his money."

Gregory's eyes flickered to Elias, who smiled and waved. Gregory's eyes narrowed. Odd. He looked back at Jon.

"Why don't we just drop the pretense," Gregory said. "Archivist."

Jon leveled his own glare at Gregory. "Why don't we."

Gregory grinned before doubling over, followed by, what sounded like, the popping of joints and cracking of bones.

From his back, emerged long, spindly, black spider legs.

"Oh my god," Elias groaned. "I need to start taking my weed to work."

As the legs continued to emerge, Jon, Martin, and Elias took off into the stacks.

It was going according to plan. So far.

* * *

"How fast do you think he can move?" Martin asked as they ran.

"Hopefully not as fast as an actual spider," Jon muttered as he wondered if he really was going to have to get used to running using his crutches like this—by being chased by Lovecraftian monsters who wanted to attack the Institute.

"Do you think he'll mess up the stacks chasing after us?"

"Good lord, I hope not."

Martin paused and made a face.

"Just spit it out," Jon said.

"I might have to mess up the stacks if he catches up," Martin admitted. "I'd be happy to clean it up after." He paused to catch his breath. Sort of, since they were still running. "Just…you know, I feel like a messy archives that's mishandled anyway is better than being dead."

"I resent that mishandled comment," Jon managed, his voice winded. His body was _not_ going to be happy with him for the next week. Maybe even the next _two_ weeks. But Martin had made a good point: better that than dead.

"Be honest, though, we weren't hired for our expertise in archiving," Martin wheeze-laughed.

"Do you think he'll be able to stick to walls like a real spider?" Elias chimed in.

"I can answer that for you!" a different voice came from around Martin. Elias looked and spotted movement on Martin's shoulder, on account of Charlotte appearing.

He looked back up at Martin in alarm. "That spider just talked!"

Martin and Jon exchanged a look.

"It's a long story," Martin said, looking back at Elias.

"I am definitely bringing my weed to work now," Elias muttered.

"No, you are most definitely _not_ ," Jon said.

"Gregory," Charlotte started, "that's his name—Gregory can, indeed, stick to walls like me. His spider legs are real spider legs."

"Well that's wonderful and not horrifying at all," Martin said, his tone painfully chipper and dripping with sarcasm.

"Then I have more wonderful news for you," Charlotte said as Gregory appeared in front of the three as they exited an aisle, causing them all to screech to a halt. Jon nearly lost his balance, they'd had to stop so abruptly. Thankfully, Martin and Elias both helped him keep him steady.

Gregory's extra legs held him up, sticking to the tops of two aisles and the ceiling, so he towered above them. His body hung from his legs, not exactly limp, but it wasn't like his human arms and legs needed to do anything. He also had more eyes on his face now. Aside from his two human ones, beady black eyes stared down at them, perfectly symmetrical on his face as he grinned, his teeth slightly sharper and pointier than any of them remembered.

"You might want to start throwing things now," Charlotte finished.

Martin grabbed the first thing he saw when he looked to his left, which was a box of files, and snatched it up, before lobbing it at Gregory. As soon as he had, the three of them took off again.

"Go right!" Charlotte shouted just as Gregory appeared in front of them. They ducked down another aisle on their right. Martin grabbed a binder as Charlotte shouted, "Behind you!" He paused, as Jon and Elias continued forward, to turn and throw the binder at Gregory.

Gregory had stopped, too, and, just as Martin threw the binder, shot out webbing from the palm of his hand. Thankfully, it caught the binder.

Martin's eyes widened as the binder flew into Gregory's hand, who began to shake it off, grunting in annoyance.

"Go, Martin!" Charlotte reminded.

"R-right." Martin turned and ran, catching up to Jon and Elias. "More wonderful news, he can throw web, too."

"Like Spiderman!" Elias exclaimed, excitedly.

"Uh, yeah," Martin confirmed.

"But, like, an evil Spiderman," Jon corrected.

They made it to the trap door that led into the tunnels underneath the Institute moments later, just as Gregory appeared behind them. The door was already open; Tim, Sasha, and Leitner had gone in ahead. Leitner to go get a book that would help them defeat this avatar. Tim and Sasha to clear the passageways of the spiders that had moved in and eaten the worms. At least, as many as they could.

Martin and Elias grabbed another box full of folders and a binder, respectively, before chucking them at Gregory, as Jon made his way down into the tunnels. Martin and Elias followed suit, as Gregory was shaking off the items and reorienting himself.

* * *

When Gregory got down into the tunnels, he felt better. It was strange, how even though the tunnels were right underneath the Institute, they didn't _belong_ to the Institute. He felt more powerful, felt like more _himself_ , felt the power The Web gave him more readily.

The ones he'd been chasing were nowhere in sight but he could _sense_ the Archivist. And his book.

Gregory took in a deep breath, calling the spiders he knew were living in the tunnels to him, and then set off to find what he sought.

Meanwhile, Tim, Sasha, Jon, Martin, and Elias were regrouping. Well, Tim, Sasha, Jon, and Martin were regrouping. Elias was off to the side, shining his torch around the tunnels at random things.

"Where's Leitner?" Jon asked in a hushed tone.

"We haven't seen him since we got into the tunnels," Sasha said.

" _What?_ What could be taking him so long? I thought he knew these tunnels like the back of his hand," Jon hissed. "He said he could _manipulate_ them."

"Like we would know," Tim said. "He disappeared on us, too."

"Uhhh, hey guys," Elias suddenly whispered, going over to Jon and tugging on his sleeve.

Jon shifted away from him, mindful of his balance and where he set his crutches (lest they accidentally land on someone's foot). "Not now, Elias."

"Well, we can't do anything about it now," Sasha continued. "Do you have the book?"

Martin nodded and handed it over to Sasha. It'd been tucked into his trousers, held against him with his belt of hairspray, hidden beneath his shirt. (Definitely not the best way to treat such a rare thing but they were going to burn it anyway, so any harm done now wouldn't matter in the end.)

"Um, guys, I really think—" Elias tried again.

"Hold on," Martin said.

"You can't give Leitner a book if he's not here," Jon said, still annoyed.

"I _know_ , Jon," Sasha snapped. "Tim and I will go look for him as we continue to get rid of more of the spiders."

"Guys!" Elias whispered urgently.

" _Not now_ ," they snapped back.

"Okay, what about the avatar that's chasing us?" Martin asked.

Sasha shrugged, giving Martin an apologetic look. "You'll have to hold him off long enough for Leitner to get his shit together."

"Wonderful," Jon muttered.

Martin giggled on account of Charlotte crawling up the side of his neck. "Ah, Charlotte! What are you doing? That tickles!" She stopped on his forehead. Frankly, it looked a bit ridiculous.

"You guys really should've been paying attention to Elias," she scolded.

"You really should have," Gregory's voice came from further down the current tunnel the five of them stood in.

"I was trying to tell you," Elias whispered, as he edged behind Martin, staring at Gregory and the writhing mass of spiders covering the walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel. Though he'd turned his torch toward them. "I saw a bunch of spiders run past us when you guys were talking."

Tim swallowed hard. "Wow, I didn't realize just how many spiders had moved in down here." His voice wavered.

"Run!" Sasha shouted as the spiders surged forward.

They ran in the same direction at first, but when they came to a crossroads, they had to split up.

"We'll go look for Leitner," Sasha said quickly.

"And we'll play hide-and-seek again, I guess," Jon replied.

They nodded at each other before heading off in opposite directions. Tim went with Sasha. Martin and Elias (and Charlotte) went with Jon.

Gregory stopped at the crossroads, too, looking between the halls. He gestured for his spider army to follow after Tim and Sasha, sensing they had his book, before turning down the hall to chase after Jon, Martin, and Elias. Though, he really only had eyes (ha! Get it?) for the Archivist.

* * *

"We should have," Tim gasped as he and Sasha ran, "taken Martin's belt of hairspray."

"They're the ones being chased by the avatar," Sasha replied as they darted to their left, down another hall. She was the designated torch-bearer. Though, she also did have her own hairspray belt and lighter. As did Tim. (Tim also had a spare torch.)

"You think they'll actually need it?"

"You think they don't?"

Tim glanced behind him at the mass of spiders following them then pointedly looked at Sasha.

"At least they burn easy," Sasha said.

"How would you know if the avatar is flammable?"

"He's still got a human form. And humans don't burn easily."

"Ehh, I said flammable. There's a difference between flammable and burning easily."

"Hey, _I'm_ supposed to be the one who argues about semantics."

"Can't you use your Eye powers to lead us to Leitner?" Tim asked, instead.

Sasha made a face. "I-it doesn't work like that."

Tim growled. "Then what's the point of having the powers?"

"Look, we scouted the place and marked the walls with signs. We just need to find a place, give the creepy-crawlies the slip, circle back around and maybe we can get the drop on them. Burn some or most or all."

They turned down a hall on their right.

"You mean before they swarm and kill us?" Tim asked.

"That, or we find Leitner, first," Sasha said, ignoring Tim's comment.

"We're not that lucky."

* * *

"Would it be insensitive of me to say that I'm tired of being chased by avatars?" Jon griped.

"If this keeps happening, and we live, we could start rating them," Martin commented.

"This is going to happen again?" Elias asked.

"No," Martin said as Jon said, "In all likelihood, yes."

They exchanged looks. Martin shrugged…as much as he could while they were running.

"This is the worst job I've ever had," Elias complained.

[ _Cue another Scooby-Doo montage chase-scene. With another surprise cameo from the Scooby Gang!_ ]

Martin shook his last hairspray can and leaned back against the wall. Part of it was due to using them to hold off Gregory. The other part was Gregory snatching them away from Martin with his web. That sped up the rate Martin went through hairspray cans very quickly.

They were catching their breaths, having lost Gregory for a few moments. They stood at the corner of a hallway. Jon leaned heavily against the wall, taking weight off his crutches, and thus his arms, too. He could already feel his body rebelling against what he'd put it through. He thought he could get away with just his legs hurting, but his arms were _aching_ at this point. Well, his whole body was, really.

"Okay, I'm on my last can," Martin said through gasps. "One of us is going to have to go look for Leitner…" He trailed off, looking at Jon apologetically.

Jon took a deep breath in. "While the others keep holding Gregory off," he finished, letting out his breath. "You go. We can play chase for a little while longer."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Martin said. "If I take just a little too long…" He made a pained face. "…but I don't think we have any other choice. Since they haven't found us yet. Oh, I hope they're okay."

" **They are,** " Jon reassured. "And we'll be okay, too."

"Oh, Archivist!" Gregory called.

The three of them groaned. Jon quickly repositioned himself, putting weight back on his crutches, and trying not to wince, before they took off again. Gregory appeared at the end of the hall they'd just come from a moment later.

"I need to double back, can you find a way to distract him? Or something? Long enough for me to get past him." Martin asked.

Jon looked down the hall they ran, thinking, before nodding and telling Martin and Elias the plan.

As they came to a T-junction, they swerved into the left hall. Martin quickly handed over his last can of hairspray and Jon's lighter (Jon had let him borrow it) to Elias (who had to juggle the lighter and torch in one hand). He faced Jon.

"You're sure about this?" Martin asked.

Elias answered, "Oh, I can do fire," he said grinning at Jon and Martin, who'd looked over at him. "It's too bad Molotov cocktails take too long to make."

Martin shook his head, like he was shaking off Elias's comments, and turned back to Jon as Jon turned back to Martin. They could all hear Gregory's legs against the walls (which, gross). He would be there at any second.

"Be careful," Martin said. And before he could overthink it, Martin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jon's cheek for a brief moment before spinning back around just as Gregory appeared.

Because of the sharp angle Gregory had to turn, as Jon had suspected, he had to crawl up the walls, to gain enough leverage to turn without slamming into the adjacent wall. This left a gap between Gregory and the ground. Martin lunged toward the gap, tucking and rolling, using his forward momentum to push off the wall as he came out of his roll to stand and run off down the hallway they were just in.

Now, the plan had been that Elias would use the hairspray and lighter to throw some flame at Gregory, to give them a little more time to run away. That, dear reader, is not what happened. (Welcome back, by the way, from your squealing session.) Instead, Elias stood there, holding the hairspray can and lighter aloft, as he grinned so largely at Jon, the corner's of his eyes wrinkled, and his eyes themselves had gone squinty.

Jon, for his part, was frozen in shock. His heart was doing a tap dance in his chest. And, at the risk of losing his balance, he had lifted one of his hands (his crutch hanging off his arm) to gently brush his fingertips against his cheek (which was warm), where Martin had kissed him.

"Do you need a moment?" Gregory asked.

Jon blinked and dazedly lifted his gaze to look at Gregory. "I-I mean…would you give us one?" he asked, lowering his hand and resituating his crutch, readjusting his body as his center of gravity shifted.

Gregory thought for a moment before shrugging. "I wasn't planning on doing anything else today."

Jon looked over at Elias, who stopped grinning and shrugged. They took off down the hall.

* * *

They had marked the tunnel walls with chalk to help them navigate them easier. But, unlike Jon or Sasha, Martin couldn't just Know where anyone was.

Charlotte was still with him, so maybe that would help him, at the least, find Tim and Sasha if they were still fighting off the army of spiders.

Martin just hoped, _hoped_ , he could find Leitner in time. At least, when he did find him, he would have the book that could alter the tunnels.

* * *

Elias shook the can and aimed it at Gregory—who decided he liked floating in the air more than being close to the ground—again but it merely spat air pathetically. He'd had to drop the torch, which laid on the ground, shining out at Gregory. But since it was on the floor, it threw spooky shadows across walls and ceiling of the tunnel.

When Elias realized he was totally and completely out of hairspray, he chucked the can at Gregory. Unfortunately, Gregory was prepared for that and easily knocked it away before shooting some of his web out, toward Elias. Jon quickly intercepted. And did so with one of his crutches.

Gregory pulled at his web, yanking Jon's crutch from his arm. Then, just be an asshole, he bent it and tossed it back to Jon. It clattered to the floor and slid to a stop at Jon's feet.

Jon glared up at Gregory. Elias offered his arm, which Jon gratefully took as he and Elias slowly backed away from Gregory, who kept slowly advancing.

"Was that really necessary?" Jon asked venomously. He'd just bought those, too.

Gregory smiled coldly at him. "Just toying with you, Archivist."

Jon's and Elias's backs hit the wall of the dead-end hallway they'd accidentally turned into. Gregory continued to advance, painstakingly slow. (And even though they were assuredly about to die, it did briefly cross Jon's mind that it was nice to be able to have a wall to lean against. Especially since he'd lost one of his crutches. Though he did keep hold of Elias's arm, as it provided him with extra support.)

"Hey, uh, before we die," Elias said quietly to Jon, "I need to ask you something."

Jon looked at Elias briefly through the corners of his eyes before looking back at Gregory.

"…okay."

"Was I hallucinating or did you see four teenagers and a big dog while we were running, too?"

Jon blinked, realizing this had happened twice now. The first time, of course, he thought he'd just imagined it. Maybe adrenaline had made him hallucinate something from a cartoon he watched as a child. Like his brain giving him something safe and familiar. He hadn't brought it up with Martin because he was embarrassed and didn't want to sound crazy. If they survived this, he made a mental note to ask Martin about it at some point.

"Actually, yes," Jon said, still surprised at the revelation. "I did."

"Okay, enough, you two," Gregory said in an annoyed tone. He stopped his advance and began to slowly lift one of his hands. Jon sucked in a small breath and held it, hoping it would be quick.

"Waitwaitwait," Elias said, holding up his hands.

Gregory threw down his hands. " _What now?_ "

Jon let out his breath and looked over at Elias in silent question. Elias continued, "Y-you're supposed to be a spider, right? Or…like represent a spider. Or something?"

Gregory's human eyes narrowed. "Yes. I'm an avatar for _The Web_."

"Well…spiders are supposed to have eight legs, right?" Elias asked.

"…that's the definition of a spider, yes."

"Well, you couldn't really call yourself a spider then, could you?" Elias asked, shrugging in a nervous, tense, "I'm probably only delaying the inevitable" kind of way.

Gregory's eyebrows furrowed.

"Y-you've got like…" Elias trailed off and began counting out loud in a whisper as he did so. "Twelve legs. So…what would that make you?"

" _What?_ " Gregory growled in annoyance.

"I mean, wouldn't you count your human arms and legs, too?" Elias replied.

"No," Gregory said harshly. "Okay, that's it. It's time for The Web to feast on you."

Jon gave Elias a sympathetic look. "It was a good effort."

Gregory held up his hand again and shot web at Jon. But the moment between the web shooting from his hand and before it hit its target, Gregory lurched backward, like he was being pulled by some invisible force. His web missed Jon, instead, hitting Jon's other crutch.

Gregory was pulled back again and he desperately pulled at his web. But Jon let his crutch go (and was once again grateful he had a wall to lean on, and Elias's arm for support) and it flew back toward Gregory as he began to slide backward, toward where Leitner stood in front of an open book. Tim, Sasha, and Martin all stood behind him.

" _Nooooo!_ " Gregory wailed as the book began to pull him into it. His body and spider legs folding and morphing so he could fit into such a small area.

As a last ditch effort to save himself—or maybe take someone with him—he shot more web at Jon.

" _Jon!_ " Martin shouted, helplessly, taking a step forward, wanting to sprint to him. But the webbing was too fast. All Jon had time to do was suck in a sharp breath and look down to see where the webbing had landed.

Instead, Jon saw Charlotte, now trapped in Gregory's webbing, right before Gregory was completely pulled into the book, Charlotte following close behind.

The book slammed shut, the pages glowing brightly for a moment before fading, leaving the lone flashlight Elias had dropped illuminating it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never been in an archive. Definitely do not think that's what you'd find in an archive. But we're going with it because we've already established Jonah had no fucking clue what he was doing when setting up his "archive."
> 
> Longer chapter for y'all! It's also technically still Thursday here, so I'm posting it. Knock on wood I'll have another chapter for you next week, when the hiatus ends and we (maybe) find out what's going on with Daisy… *pause for pained laughter that devolves into sobbing*
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/627675699387547648/chapter-12-more-wonderful-news)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	13. Too Cryptic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Mean Girls voice* Oh my god, Karen, you can't just ask someone why they're white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important:** Daisy and Basira are in this chapter, and I'm saying this in light of this week's ep and some things it may have driven home for some people. lmk if you think I should add a summary of their part in the end notes.
> 
>  **Content Warnings:** spiders/spider mention (with a brief, semi-detailed description), angst (just a teeny-tiny hint at the beginning). lmk if I need to add anything else!

It was quiet for a few moments after the book had stopped glowing. Leitner broke the silence as he stepped forward and picked the book back up. He had another book with him, the one that altered the tunnels.

"So it's…" Elias started hesitantly, "it's over now?"

"For now," Leitner said. "That avatar will no longer be a problem."

"…what about Charlotte?" Jon asked, to the others' (sans Leitner), and his own, surprise.

"Once we burn the book, she will disappear," Leitner said.

"So, she won't be stuck in there with…"

Leitner shook his head. "No."

"Let's burn the book."

* * *

Leitner used the other book with him to open up a pathway that led to one the scarce rooms in the tunnels.

"Gertrude and I tried to experiment with _The Key of Solomon_ in here," Leitner explained as they entered. Elias was still helping Jon walk, but he felt very unstable without another stable thing (or someone) on his other side. Leitner continued, "We burned it when we realized it wouldn't be of any use to us."

Elias helped Jon sit down in one of the dusty chairs. Tim grabbed a metal bin with remnants of burned pages and dragged it closer to Jon. Sasha set the book inside the bin as they gathered around it.

Leitner had procured a small bottle of petrol, coating the book with it. Sasha passed around a matchbook, a silent agreement between them that they'd all take a part in burning the book. Leitner didn't take a match, instead he held a torch, shining it down into the bin.

When they all had their matches, they glanced around at each other right before lighting their matches and throwing it into the bin. The book caught with a _whoosh_ and they all watched as the pages blackened and curled.

It was satisfying. Jon just never expected his satisfaction of watching a Leitner go up in smoke to be tinged with melancholy.

* * *

Once there was only embers left, Leitner snuffed them out.

There was another moment of silence before Jon quietly said, "We should get back."

Jon looked up, at Martin, and when their eyes locked, they both blushed…and then they both quickly looked away, Martin bringing up one of his hands to rub the back of his head.

"C-could s-someone help me up?" Jon mumbled, keeping his gaze low.

Martin opened his mouth to offer but halted, the red of his face deepening further.

Tim and Sasha exchanged a look as Elias stepped toward Jon.

"I got you, homie," he said, holding out his arm for Jon.

"Th-thanks, Elias," he mumbled, eyes flickering up to Elias, to give him a small, "thank you" smile, then his eyes flickered over to Martin, then to the ground, as he carefully stood. He kept Elias on his right side, so he didn't have to put too much weight on his right leg. Still, it wasn't easy keeping his balance. Especially since he didn't want to put too much weight on Elias, either, and pull his arm from his socket.

Tim and Sasha had a silent conversation, nodding once.

"Here Jon, I can be on your other side," Sasha offered as Tim went over to Martin. "Maybe that'll make it a little easier on you."

Jon blinked, surprised. "O-oh, thank you, Sasha."

They began to exit the room, Leitner leading and carrying the torch, Jon, Sasha, and Elias following behind. Tim and Martin took up the rear, both holding their own torches as extra/back-up.

" _Sooooo_ ," Sasha drawled as they entered the tunnels. "What was _that_ all about?" She kept her voice low, so Martin couldn't overhear. But also, so Tim wouldn't have to speak over Sasha.

"So, Martin," Tim started, in the same hushed but scandalized tone Sasha was taking. "What happened back there, hmm?"

"Good lord, Sasha," Jon groaned quietly. "You're acting like such a child. And you're older than me."

Martin buried his face in his hands. "I-it's not important," he stuttered as his mind replayed the moment he'd decided to kiss Jon's cheek. _Stupidstupidstupid_.

"Come on, Jon," Sasha complained. "I saw that look you and Martin exchanged. That's _not_ nothing."

"Martin," Tim scoffed incredulously. "Your face is as red as wine and _you_ should be at Jon's right, not Elias. Why didn't you offer?"

"I…it—" Jon blew out a breath as he felt his face grow hot, the feeling of Martin's lips on his cheek returning. His heart began doing backflips and he hoped neither Sasha, nor Elias could feel his racing pulse as he hung on to them. "I-it really doesn't matter."

"I-I would have," Martin defended but even he could tell his tone was weak. "Elias just…beat me to it."

Sasha narrowed her eyes at Jon, then she looked up at Elias who quickly looked away, toward the tunnel wall. He looked like he'd just stepped out of one of those TV shows when one character shouts "act natural!" and all the others act completely _un_ natural.

"Elias," she sang. "I think you know something."

Elias shook his head, keeping his gaze on the wall next to him. "I'm no snitch."

"Beat you to it?" Tim asked, more incredulous. "Jon looked at you for like, five whole seconds before asking for help. And you're telling me _Elias beat you to it._ That's a load of bollocks."

"Sasha," Jon hissed, half-scolding, half-pleading.

"Tim," Martin groaned, half-pleading, half-scolding.

"We're here," Leitner said, mercifully and much to the annoyance of Tim and Sasha. "I will not be joining you. I need to return this book to my…my place." He looked at Sasha. "You know where to find me."

"Thanks, Leitner," Sasha said. More out of obligation than actual gratitude.

Leitner nodded before slipping past them and disappearing into the tunnels once again.

Tim stepped forward to push open the trapdoor, only to freeze and throw up his hands.

"Don't shoot!" he said, though his tone was far too light-hearted for what he'd just said. The others shuffled forward and looked up to see Officer Hussain and Officer Tonner looking down at them. They didn't have guns but Daisy's expression was enough of a threat.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jon asked, squeezing Elias's arm painfully when he opened his mouth to say something.

Basira's eyes narrowed. "We got a call about a disturbance. When we came to check on you, only to find the archive empty, we went to look for you." Her eyes did a scan of the five of them. "You all look alright." She paused. "Unscathed."

Daisy's expression changed a fraction, clearly not making the same assessment but she said nothing to counteract Basira's words.

"Where are your crutches," Daisy asked.

"Pardon?" Jon replied.

"You had crutches last time we visited," Daisy elaborated. "Now you're hanging onto…your boss and one of your assistants for dear life."

" _Daisy_ ," Basira scolded. Daisy ignored her and glared down at Jon.

"Well, I…lost them," Jon said, not convincingly at all. The others, minus Elias, tried not to outwardly groan or facepalm, tried not to wince.

"In the tunnels?" Daisy crossed her arms and raised in eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Why were you exploring the tunnels?"

"We had a problem," Jon said. "And then we solved it."

"In the tunnels?" Basira asked this time.

Jon nodded. "…yep."

"So the phone-in was real?" Basira asked skeptically.

"Probably," Jon said helpfully. "Someone might've noticed or heard something. But, like I said, it has been taken care of."

"Let me guess," Basira began dryly, "'Strictly Institute business.'"

Jon hesitated. "Would you arrest me if I said yes?"

Basira rolled her eyes and sighed. "I guess not. Daisy?" She looked up at her partner.

"Whatever," Daisy said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

* * *

"You've really got to stop doing this, Jon," Basira said once back inside Jon's office. She was sat where she'd sat last time they'd had a meeting like this, Jon back in his office chair, with some help from Sasha. He really just wanted to go home but Basira wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. The rest of the archival staff (Elias had gone back up to his office) were cleaning up the mess Martin had made to hold off Gregory.

"I wasn't expecting someone to phone Scotland Yard," Jon said.

"You thought your problem didn't warrant it?"

"Again, i-it's complicated. The less you know, the better."

"I've dealt with spooky shit before, Jon," Basira said, sitting forward. "It's in my job description now."

"I know, Basira, I know," Jon said. "I just don't want to pull you into anything…you're not prepared for."

"So it's handled but it's also serious enough that you're trying to protect me?"

Jon nodded slowly, giving her an apologetic look. "It's oxymoronic but that's about the sum of it, yes."

"Just a reminder: I won't be able to bail you out if it's that serious and something goes wrong."

"Understood. I'm not asking you, nor do I expect you to."

Basira gave him an suspicious look through narrowed eyes before she stood with a sigh, procuring another tape. "Here's another." She set it down on Jon's desk. "Good chat, as always, Jon."

Jon chuckled. "Yes, well…thank you, Basira."

* * *

"Don't you think it's weird their boss was down there with them?" Daisy asked as they drove back to Scotland Yard. "He's head of the Institute. Why would he go down there?"

Basira shrugged and shook her head. "I wish I had an answer for you, Daisy."

"What do you talk about with Jon, then?" Daisy demanded.

"Gertrude's tapes, mostly. He's too cryptic to get a real answer out of, anyway."

Daisy shook her head. "I still can't believe you agreed to that. I don't trust him, Basira."

"He's harmless, Daisy," Basira replied in an amused tone.

"He gives off a weird vibe," Daisy complained.

"Like…creepy?"

"No, just… _weird_." Daisy made a face.

"Speaking of Jon," Basira said, changing the subject. "You can't just go around asking people about their mobility aids, you know."

"Jon's lucky I _didn't_ arrest him for using the 'Institute business' card again."

Basira sighed heavily. "Daisy."

"A joke."

* * *

"Hey, uh," Elias began as he walked Jon to his car. "You can totally use the money in the bank account we set up for the haunted books for your new crutches. You don't need to worry about expense, just let me know how much they were, and I'll transfer that amount back in."

"O-oh," Jon stuttered in surprise. "Th-that's not necessary, Elias—"

Elias made a face as they got to his car and Jon unlocked it. "I know you just bought the ones that not-spider guy took, and it's partially my fault. I wouldn't want you to spend more of your own money on new ones."

Jon opened his car door and carefully sat down in the driver's seat, looking up at Elias. "It's not your fault at all."

"I mean, you used one of your crutches to block the not-spider's web," Elias rebutted. "Besides, this way, you don't have to worry about expense. Evil Jonas is loaded AF, whatever amount you spend on your crutches is probably not going to mean very much."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. _Loaded…A…F…?_ he thought, trying to think of what AF could stand for before realizing Elias was waiting for him to respond.

"I-if you really don't mind…" he said.

"Not at all, homie." Elias held out his fist for a fist-bump.

Jon hesitantly obliged. "Uh, right."

"Do you need any help getting home or anything?" Elias asked.

"No, thank you, though. I have a pair of under-arm crutches for exactly this case. Not the most comfortable, but it's doable until I can get another pair of forearm crutches."

"Oh, yeah! You can totally buy more than one pair, too, if you need any back-ups."

"…thank you. Again." Jon paused. "I'll, um, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Elias beat his fist against his chest twice and made a peace sign. "Later." Then headed to his own car.

Jon drove home in a daze.

* * *

Jon rolled over in his bed, onto his side, curling slightly into the fetal position. He let out a heavy, trembling breath, in an effort to release the pain radiating throughout his entire body. His legs were the worst. Which he'd figured would happen. The paracetamol he'd taken wasn't doing much. Which he'd also figured.

After a moment of deep breathing, and that not _really_ working, he reached for his phone and opened up his contacts. His hands were shaking more than they usually did, and his arms still ached.

He squinted at the screen before turning the brightness down and scrolling through his contacts. It was abysmally small. And it consisted mostly of one-time acquaintances. His thumb hovered over Martin's name but the memory of Martin kissing him flashed through his mind and he hesitated. His rapidly beating heart was making his hands shake even more.

Jon threw his phone down on his bed, face-down, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't that it was a bad feeling. Quite the contrary: though his heart raced and his face flushed and his hands shook (more than they already were), it was all very… _warm_. It felt good. There was something nice about what Martin had done. It had been reassuring. Surprising, most of all. But also…nice, reassuring, warm.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, these thoughts only making his heart race even more. The opposite of what he'd wanted. It didn't really do much to make the pain go away but it had taken his mind off it, if only for a moment.

He picked his phone back up opening up the group chat, staring at the blinking line in the message bar. Could he send a simple message? He glanced at the time in the corner of his phone. Who'd be up at this late hour? Would it be rude?

…but they were the people he was closest to right now. They had called him friend. Could he call them that, as well?

Holding his breath, he pressed the phone icon, put it on speaker, then threw his phone, face-down, on the bed again, waiting.

Sasha's groggy voice answered first. " _Hello? Jon? Is everything okay?_ "

Before Jon could answer, Elias picked up, sounding surprisingly chipper, " _What's up, homies?_ "

Jon waited. Tim picked up not long after. " _Mmm, I just want you to know I almost didn't pick up but I love you guys enough that I'm here._ "

" _Aww, you're sweet,_ " Sasha said as Martin answered, " _You guys better not being doing something illegal._ "

"S-sorry," Jon finally spoke up, swallowing hard. "Rough night. I…hope you don't mind. I just need a distraction." He waited, holding his breath again, coiled tense (which, bad idea for his pain, but he couldn't help it), waiting for rejection.

Instead, " _All good, my dude,_ " Elias said.

" _What do you want to talk about?_ " Martin asked, soon after.

" _Oh ho ho, I know,_ " Tim sang, sounding more awake now. " _How about whatever it is happened between you and Jon in the tunnels, Martin._ "

" _Ooo, good choice, Tim,_ " Sasha said, a smile in her voice.

"This was a mistake, I'm hanging up now," Jon said but didn't reach for his phone.

" _Oh, boss, you're no fun!_ " Tim said.

Sasha said, " _He's not going to hang up._ "

Jon didn't answer.

" _I can still see you're on the call, Jon,_ " Sasha said. Jon rolled his eyes. " _And I know you just rolled your eyes at me._ "

Jon froze. "How—?"

" _Because I know you, boss,_ " Sasha replied.

" _Anyway, if Jon's_ not _going to hang up then, can we get, uh, back on topic and discuss what happened in the tunnels,_ " Tim said. " _Because while Sash and I were running for our lives from a giant army of spiders, something definitely happened between Martin and Jon._ "

" _Nothing happened, Tim!_ " Martin said, but his voice was an octave higher, which gave him away in an instant.

"Just drop it," Jon sighed as his face began to heat up again. He was grateful this wasn't a video call.

" _No way! Not until we get the truth!_ " Sasha said..

" _Yeah! You tell 'em, Sash_ ," Tim added.

Then Sasha sang, " _Elias knows._ "

" _I already told you, bro, I'm not a snitch_ ," Elias said.

" _We're all friends here,_ " Tim coaxed.

Sasha chuckled. " _And Martin and Jon would never retaliate._ "

Martin started spluttering. " _I-I…I can be mean!_ "

" _You can't see it but I'm looking at you with an expression of doubt, Martin,_ " Tim replied.

"Elias," Jon said. "I'll let you bring weed into work if you don't tell them what happened."

Sasha and Tim gasped, scandalized. Martin laughed. ~~Which made a storm of butterflies materialize in Jon's stomach.~~

" _Sorry, Tim, Sasha, I gotta side with my best bud,_ " Elias said over all the commotion.

" _You're just saying that because he_ bribed _you!_ " Tim exclaimed.

"I resent the fact that you think Elias and I _aren't_ best buds," Jon scoffed.

Tim and Sasha started in, trying to argue their point, with Martin countering that it wasn't really any of their business, and Elias reaffirming he wasn't going to tell. Jon simply listened to them bicker, a small smile on his face. The warm feeling in his chest returned in a different capacity.

* * *

Jon sat back in his chair, bracing himself. "What's your question, Elias?"

They were sitting in his office, going over his notes about the fears and all that that entailed—preparing Elias for the first avatar meeting he had to attend.

"So, you said these fear thingies can give you superpowers, right?" Elias asked.

"Well, as you saw with-with Gregory…in a sense, yes. Why?"

Elias nodded slowly, thinking. "So, if I found a spider and let it bite me…I'd become Spiderman!" Without warning, Elias jumped up from his chair. He opened the door, revealing Martin, who had his fist aloft, about to knock. Paying Martin no mind, Elias sped past him, grinning.

Jon shot up from his chair, shouting, "No, Elias! Wait!" and then remembered his legs didn't like holding his weight anymore without help. His right leg buckled underneath him. Thankfully, Jon caught himself, slamming a hand down on his desk to do so. He sat down heavily, hissing with pain, but his mind focused on finding Elias before he could do something stupid and seriously injure himself.

"Um…" Martin began as Jon turned in his chair and reached for his fancy, new crutches, quickly standing and making his way around his desk. Only, he was in such a hurry, one of the crutches caught on the edge of his desk. Jon lurched forward with a yelp. Martin hurried in, holding out his hands, to catch Jon if he fell.

But Jon managed to catch himself again. Making sure his crutch was no longer caught, he rushed past a very confused Martin.

* * *

"Do you know what bit him?" the doctor asked, looking over at Jon and Martin.

By the time Jon had found Elias, he'd already gotten bitten. Jon had asked Martin to give them a ride to the hospital.

They had tried to offer Jon a wheelchair when they'd first arrived, assuming he'd been the one hurt, but after Jon declined and explained the situation, they'd taken Elias into A&E with Jon and Martin trialing behind. Even so, they'd brought over a chair for Jon, while Elias was looked at, and Jon wasn't going to refuse a perfectly good place to sit. Give his arms a break. Martin stood next to him.

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to shift, so as to not knock over his crutches, as he answered, " **A brown recluse.** "

"You got a good look at it? You're sure that's what it was?"

Jon removed his hand from his nose and nodded.

The doctor turned back to Elias with a smile and reassured him it was an easy fix before instructing a nurse to go get the antidote.

"How'd you say this happened again?" the doctor asked, looking over at Jon and Martin.

"Accident," Jon said as Martin said, "Christmas tree."

The doctor gave them an odd look.

"Christmas tree," Jon amended as Martin amended, "Accident."

"A…Christmas tree…accident," Martin drawled.

It was clear the doctor didn't believe a word of it but also didn't pry. "Right."

The doctor left once the nurse returned, and as she gave Elias the antidote, Elias looked over at Jon and said in a stage whisper, "Hey, next time you find a less deadly spider, bring it to me, okay?"

"That…that's not how it works," Jon sighed as Martin facepalmed.

* * *

Annabelle tapped away at her laptop. Being an avatar didn't banish her to the dark ages. Sure, some avatars could get lost in some fog or go zooming through the sky but The Web was different. Being an avatar for The Web had its own perks, of course, but she still needed shelter and she quite enjoyed modern amenities.

A little brown spider, with a violin-shaped abdomen, crawled up to her laptop, up the side of her monitor and then onto it when she didn't notice, following along, as she typed. She finished the paragraph before she stopped and held out her finger, letting the spider crawl onto it.

"Hi there, Shelob," she said, smiling. "What little goodies do you have for me from the Magnus Institute?"

She listened as Shelob chittered and her smile dimmed, her eyebrows furrowing with a mix of confusion and concern.

"He's an idiot!" she whispered, incredulously, resting her forehead in her hand for a moment, staring at her keyboard, her eyes far away. After a moment, she blew out a breath and straightened up. "I'll have to schedule a visit in-person, soon, I suppose." A grin spread across her face. "But for now, the next avatar meeting is going to be so much _fun_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beginning of act ii, how we doin' folks?
> 
> avatar meeting's next *eyes emoji* (again, hopefully i can write it up before next thurs)
> 
> and for one of the 10,000 today, the spider Annabelle talks to, is a brown recluse—is the brown recluse that bit Elias (or, rather, the brown recluse that Elias let bite him lmao). That's how I learned to identify a brown recluse since they're deadly…though they are also small so,,, you know, results may vary alkjlkdf
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/628264293860851712/chapter-13-too-cryptic)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are appreciated ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	14. Only Kinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tim and Martin hope for the best before attending their first avatar meeting.
> 
>   
>  **Elias:** I'm about to end these men's whole careers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro,,, it's been. a Week.
> 
> semi-important note at the end, pls read. thx

"Nothing happened!" Jon exclaimed.

"Nothing happened!" Martin exclaimed.

"Come on, boss, clearly something did," Sasha said.

"Come on, Martin, clearly something did," Tim said.

And though their flushed faces said otherwise, Jon and Martin refused to say anything more. Elias was still absolutely no help.

Tim and Sasha congregated in a corner of the common workspace, far away from Martin, so they could reevaluate their strategy—try to figure out what would get either of them to admit what'd happened in the tunnels when Gregory attacked.

"Couldn't you…y'know, use your Eye powers?" Tim finally asked.

"I try not to do that," Sasha said making a face that was half-sympathetic.

"I mean…is it _really_ any different than hacking a computer?" Tim tried.

Sasha snorted. "Morally? Yes."

Tim scoffed and gestured to Jon's office door with his thumb. "Mr. Jonathan Straight-Lace Sims told Elias he could bring his weed into work and you're lecturing me on morals?"

"Okay, but that's a clue!" Sasha burst, quietly, turning to face Tim more fully. "It's something that they _really_ want to keep a secret, right? So, reasonably speaking, keeping in mind they were running for their lives, too, and that Martin had to come find us, what could've happened that's making them clam up?"

They both leaned back against the desks, thinking.

When it hit them, it did so at the same time.

They gasped and straightened up, looking at each other, before:

"You kissed him?!" Tim asked, grinning as he walked over to Martin's desk.

"He kissed you?!" Sasha asked, bursting into Jon's office without knocking.

"No!" Martin exclaimed.

"No!" Jon exclaimed.

Tim waited.

Sasha raised an eyebrow.

"…only on the cheek," Martin finally mumbled.

"It was just on the cheek," Jon said with a sigh.

"I knew it!"

"I knew it!"

"It was just a friendly gesture," Martin said.

"I-It was just a friendly gesture," Jon said.

" _What?_ "

" _What?_ "

"I was…" Martin started. "We were being chased by an avatar and I was worried I might not…y'know, see him again."

"I'm not saying it in a bad way," Jon explained. "It was a very nice gesture on Martin's part during a very stressful, possibly mortally fatal, time for us."

Tim and Sasha left them to their own devices, stunned, and congregated back at the spot they'd been before.

"They're hopeless," Tim lamented.

"No, they're idiots," Sasha corrected. "There's a difference."

"Which would be…?"

"It's _not_ hopeless," Sasha said. "We just need to find a way to convince them that it's more than just friendship."

And if this were a visual medium, Sasha would then look straight into the camera as she said, "Not to say those gestures are inherently romantic, though. But JonMartin is endgame romantically, so in this context, they'd be interpreted as romantic."

And then Tim would look where Sasha is looking, only to see nothing, and ask, worriedly, "Wh-who are you talking to?"

Sasha faced Tim again. "Hm? Oh, no one. Just breaking the fourth wall for a moment."

"What?"

Sasha patted his arm. "You'll know it when you know it."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Do your Eye powers also make you confusingly cryptic?"

* * *

"Wh-what do avatars of literal embodiments of fear even talk about?" Martin asked, shifting and pulling at his clothes nervously.

He, Tim, Sasha, and Jon were in the hallway on the ground floor of Elias's flat, waiting for him to come downstairs. After Logan had escorted them to Elias's door, he'd answered with a quick greeting before rushing upstairs, saying he'd only be down in a minute or two. (It'd been longer than a minute or two but they'd arrived early for exactly that purpose.)

Jon was sitting on the ground, crutches lying next to his right leg. Sasha sat next to him. Tim and Martin stayed standing, both too nervous to sit still. After all, they were the ones who were going and chaperoning Elias.

They'd all taken off their shoes and had guest slippers on. After the Halloween Party, Elias had bought fancy stacking boxes that sat at his entrance. They were fancy because they had doors that automatically flipped open and slid back when the little knob near the bottom of each individual box was pulled on, which simultaneously pulled out a platform that the shoes sat on. In this case, Elias had also bought a pair of slippers for everyone, which resided in the boxes until they were switched out with shoes. The front of the boxes had been decorated with stickers and crudely hand-drawn names with markers (done by Elias, of course).

"Well, don't look at me," Jon said defensively as everyone's eyes strayed toward him. "I've never been invited."

"Don't sound so disappointed," Tim said. "I'm kind of regretting volunteering to do this. I don't want to be surrounded by avatars."

"Uh, yeah, seconded," Martin added.

"You should be fine as long as you're polite," Sasha assured. "I mean, we may not be human anymore but we can still be civilized."

"I know, I didn't mean to imply—" Tim started quickly.

"It's okay, Tim, I knew what you meant."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. "You say that like you've been to one."

Sasha looked at the door, away from Jon. "I haven't."

A moment of silence passed.

Jon sat forward. "Hey, wait! You got invited, didn't you?"

"Don't sound so offended," Tim repeated, more emphatically.

Sasha shrugged, still avoiding Jon's gaze. "I-I'm a new avatar. They wanted to…I don't know, welcome me into the fold, I guess."

Jon scoffed. "I'm an avatar, too!"

Sasha finally looked over at Jon and shrugged. "I mean, only kinda right now."

"Wha—that's not the point." Jon looked over at Martin and Tim for help. They both made a face and made noncommittal noises of agreement with Sasha's statement. Jon sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, ~~pouting~~.

"You could always take my place," Tim suggested. Jon thought about that and sighed, letting his arms fall to his side.

"No, I'd rather not," he muttered.

"What is taking Elias so long?" Martin asked, glancing at the stairs.

"Should one of us go get him?" Sasha asked.

"Nah, I don't care if we're late," Tim said.

"Would Evil Jonas be late, though?" Sasha shot back.

"No, but…" Jon looked at his watch. "You've still got time. I'm sure it's just nerves. Let him have a few more minutes."

They fell into silence. Martin began picking at his clothes again. Jon noticed.

"You look nice, Martin," he commented.

Martin froze and blushed. "O-oh, th-thanks, Jon."

Jon's face began to turn red at Martin's reaction. "Um…"

"You're not going to tell me I look nice, too, boss?" Tim asked in an dramatic tone, lifting his hand to his chest to add to the effect.

"What about me, boss?" Sasha said in the same tone as Tim, draping herself on Jon's shoulder.

The three of them were dressed in business casual attire, as per the reminder email Elias had gotten. They only hoped they'd never get a reminder email that said "formal," "black tie," or worst of all, "white tie."

"Augh, Sasha!" Jon complained as his right hand shot out to catch himself, his other arm gently trying to push Sasha off him. "Get off!"

Sasha, grinning, only doubled down, throwing her head back and putting one of her hands on her forehead until Jon's arm gave out from underneath him and they both hit the floor with a thud.

Laughing, Sasha finally lifted herself off of Jon, who sat up as well, looking frazzled. His face was warm and flushed, his glasses askew.

"You two are so childish," he griped, straightening his glasses and his shirt with a huff.

"It's okay, we know you play favorites," Tim sniffled, still in an exaggerated way.

Sasha reached dramatically for Tim, who reached back as Sasha said, "We can find solace in each other, Tim."

Jon rolled his eyes before meeting Martin's gaze. Martin gave Jon a half-smile, shaking his head and shrugging. Jon couldn't help the returning smile from pulling at his lips as they shared a moment.

Elias chose that moment to come bounding downstairs. He grabbed the railing and spun as he got to the last few steps, crashing into Tim and nearly bowling both of them, _and_ Martin, over.

Tim was able to catch himself, with some help from Martin, and steady Elias.

The smell hit all of them at the same time.

"You're fucking stoned!" Tim exclaimed.

* * *

Tim gripped Elias's arms as Elias swayed with a goofy grin on his face. Sasha shot to her feet. Jon quickly, as quickly as he could without losing his balance, stood too.

"Oh, god, this is going to be a disaster!" Martin groaned. "What are we going to do?"

"Well we can't have him smelling like weed," Sasha said. "He must have cologne somewhere here. Or…Evil Jonas would, anyway. I'll go look."

Sasha quickly brushed past Tim and Elias as Tim inspected him.

Tim clicked his tongue. "His eyes are blood-shot. How are we going to explain that?"

"I'll…go look for some sunglasses or something," Martin said, heading upstairs as well.

"Why don't we take him outside, try to…air him out a little," Jon suggested.

Tim only let out a frustrated, worried groan as he spun Elias and led him to the door, Elias bumping into the walls as he did. When Tim briefly let Elias go to get his shoes, Elias continued forward and crashed right into the door before spinning around with a giggle, leaning up against the door, and sliding down to the floor.

"Look at that," Tim said, running a hand through his hair, shoes in his other hand. "He can't even speak. How are we supposed to get him to pass as Evil Jonas now?"

"One problem at a time," Jon said, voice strained. He was sitting on the small stool (crutches resting against the wall next to him) Elias had also bought, so Jon could easily slip in and out of his shoes. "We get him to stop smelling like weed. Find a way to hide his eyes. Then we can talk about what you can do to help him pass as Evil Jonas."

Tim made another noise, this time, more worried-sounding as he slipped on his shoes and tied the laces.

* * *

Tim and Jon waited outside. Jon shivered, standing at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Elias's flat, and watched Tim try to corral Elias, who was bounding around the courtyard in a very clumsy dance. (He fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself, as he would most assuredly fall.) Elias was also trying to sing but anytime he got louder than an inside voice, Tim shh-ed him.

"I could use a little help," Tim said, looking over at Jon with a frazzled expression as he struggled to hold Elias still for a moment.

"What do you want me to do," Jon asked, "trip him? Hit him over the head with my crutch? I have a feeling neither of those things will be of any use."

Tim snapped his fingers, pointing at Jon. "We could knock him out!" He still held one of Elias's arms, who was now poking and playing with the shrubbery they stood next to.

"You still have to attend this meeting _with_ him, though," Jon pointed out. "How do you expect an unconscious body to pass as Evil Jonas around a bunch of avatars?"

Tim opened his mouth to respond but the door to Elias's flat opened up.

"I found some cologne," Sasha said.

"I couldn't find sunglasses," Martin added as he closed the door behind him. Jon stepped to the side as Sasha went down the stairs and over to where Tim and Elias stood.

"I think I have some sunglasses in my car," Martin continued as Sasha held up the cologne bottle.

"We'll just have to use those," Tim sighed.

"How should I…" Sasha trailed off. "Should we douse him in it? He still smells strongly of weed."

"Use the whole bottle if you have to," Tim muttered. "Maybe that'll keep the avatars away from us for tonight."

Sasha shook the bottle, leaned back, and was just about to spray when Jon exclaimed, "Wait!"

Tim and Sasha jumped.

"What?" Tim asked.

"Do I have it backward?" Sasha asked, bringing the bottle closer to her to examine.

"Do it when you get to the…estate," Jon said. "That way you don't have to smell it on the ride there."

"Oh, good idea," Sasha said pocketing the cologne. "We should head over. I'll see you guys there. We can find a spot to spray him when we get there." Without waiting for an answer, she started toward the exit of the courtyard; she was driving herself to the meeting. Whereas Martin, Tim, and Elias were carpooling.

Martin sighed but also started toward the exit. Jon followed, staying next to Martin. Tim pulled Elias away from the bush he'd been playing with and dragged him to the exit, with noises of protest coming from Elias all the while.

"You should probably drive with your windows down," Jon said to Martin.

"In _November_ ," Tim said, glaring at Jon over his shoulder.

"It'd be a good way to air Elias out more," Jon defended. "Maybe you won't have to drown him in cologne because you two are the ones who will have to stick by him the whole night."

"He's got a point, Tim," Martin said, with an apologetic shrug.

Tim sighed. " _Fine._ "

Sasha had already taken off. And as Tim began to wrestle Elias into the backseat of Martin's car, Martin stopped and turned to Jon.

"Uhm…" Martin swallowed hard.

"Good luck," Jon said.

Martin smiled, relaxing. "Thanks, Jon."

Tim slammed the backseat door and huffed before putting a hand on the car so he could lean against it and said, breathlessly, "Aren't you gonna wish _me_ good luck, too, boss?"

Jon and Martin both glared at him.

"Well if you're gonna be like that, then just kiss already," Tim griped, pushing away from the car and opening the passenger's side door. He paused and looked back at them. "On the lips this time." Then slid into the car and shut the door.

Jon and Martin stood, staring at Tim in mortification, both flushed. Tim ignored their stares but _was_ , in fact, watching them through the car's side-mirror.

"Uh, well," Martin squeaked, turning back to Jon. "I should…uhm…" He cleared his throat as he stepped off the curb. "I should get going. Don't want to be late and all."

"R-right," Jon nodded, clearing his throat. "O-of course. Good luck. Again. I-if you need me, y'know, just-just shoot me a text or give me a ring."

"Th-thanks," Martin managed, giving Jon a small smile before turning and quickly getting into his car. "You're insufferable," he hissed quietly to Tim as he started his car and they rolled down all the windows.

Jon saw them off, then sighed heavily before making his way back to his own car, and back to his flat for the night, now immensely relieved that he didn't have to go to the avatar meeting.

* * *

Martin sighed. "So what _do_ you think they talk about at these meetings? What's even the purpose of them?" He asked over the whistle of the bitter wind.

Tim shrugged, gripping his Jesus bar and trying to keep steady, and not focus on how cold he was, as Martin sped down the road. "They probably just talk about their victims or something." He paused and hit the door with a quiet " _oof_."

"Sorry," Martin muttered.

"'s fine," Tim said. "They probably have them to gloat about how many people they've terrorized. Maybe swap strategies." Tim frowned.

Martin made a face and said, "That's morbid." Then, "I was under the impression they didn't really get along. I mean, from what Leitner told us, some fears are even the antithesis of each other. Not to mention they all want to do their own rituals to remake the world, centered around their fear."

"Well," Tim started. "If I'm remembering correctly, even if two or more fears oppose each other, they're not exactly separate entities. They're more like…an amorphous blob. You can't _really_ separate one from another. They're all interconnected in one way or another."

"Maybe it's one of those…for one night there's a truce," Martin said.

"Yeah."

Silence fell between them for a little bit. Tim glanced in the rearview to check on Elias, who'd been suspiciously quiet. Panic shot adrenaline straight into his heart and he whipped around to get a better look.

"Did he die?!" Tim asked.

Martin pulled to the side of the road and hit the brake with a screech. And in that moment, Tim was grateful he was already gripping the Jesus bar and that he had great reflexes.

" _What?_ " Martin exclaimed, looking over at Tim before turning to look at Elias. Martin put the car in park, and they both quickly unbuckled their seatbelts, exiting the car before getting back in, on either side of Elias. He was prone, head back against the rest. His eyes were closed, jaw slack.

Tim reached up to feel for a pulse and let out a breath, sagging with relief.

"I think he just fell asleep, or something," Tim said.

Martin gripped Elias's shoulder and shook him. "Hey, Elias," he said. When that didn't work, Martin shook him harder, "Elias!" When _that_ didn't work he looked over at Tim. "You're sure he has a pulse?"

"Yes, of course!" Tim replied. "It wasn't…thready or anything. If you wanna make sure, then _you_ take his pulse. Or…hold a mirror under his nose or something."

Martin sighed. "No, I believe you." He paused. Then, "Should I shake him harder?"

"It's got to be how much weed he smoked," Tim said, sagging against the seat. "It just completely knocked him out or something. What the fuck are we going to do now?"

"We just have to go," Martin said, shaking his head. "We don't have a choice. It'd be too suspicious if Evil Jonas"—he gestured to Elias—"didn't show up. Sasha will be waiting. And we don't want to be late, which we might end up being if we keep sitting here."

"You're right," Tim grumbled. "Do you have those sunglasses?"

"Oh, yeah." Martin backed out of the backseat and slid into the driver's side again before grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment. They were generic, nothing fancy, just plain, black sunglasses. Martin turned and handed them to Tim, who slipped them onto Elias's face.

"This night just keeps getting better and better," Tim muttered, backing out of the backseat, slamming the door, and getting in the passenger's once again. He buckled his seat belt, reached up to grip the Jesus bar, and then nodded at Martin, who took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i hope that first part reads okay. sometimes i try to translate what would be easy in a visual medium into a written one when i shouldn't lmao
> 
> So,,, was originally gonna have the actual "meeting" itself be in this chapter but then it got way too long so I made it a two-parter. The good news, I already have the second part written and will be posting on Thur.
> 
> It's been a super weird and trying time for me this past week and half, so I hope I'm still able to write comedy alright lol. Also I don't actually know that much about smoking weed and how it affects you, if you couldn't tell. So if none of this sounds right just suspend your disbelief for my sake, pretty please lmao
> 
>  **ALSO, ALSO,** I have joined the TMA Big Bang! So I will be diverting more of my time to that fic. I'll still intermittently work on this one, and try to get updates in a relatively timely fashion, but updates will be slowing down again.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/629257381218484224/chapter-14-only-kinda)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	15. No Comment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Weekend~~ A Night at ~~Bernie's~~ an Avatar Meeting

"Where have you guys been?" Sasha hissed as Martin stopped his car, after screeching into a parking spot. She was hugging her jacket closer to her and was shivering.

Tim and Martin exited the car, both exchanging a look. They were also shivering, their faces flushed.

"We thought he died and had to check," Tim said as if it was a normal occurrence, opening the backseat door.

" _What?_ " Sasha asked incredulously.

"He's completely out." Martin shrugged. "Shaking him and yelling his name didn't do anything."

"Have you tried hitting him?" Sasha asked.

Tim backed out of the backseat to face Sasha. "If you want to slap a fifty year old, be my guest."

Sasha frowned. "Well…when you put it like that." She paused. "How does he smell?"

Tim leaned back into the backseat, then back out. "It's hardly noticeable. You'd have to be standing right next to him to notice. I think the cologne will cover it completely." He looked at Martin. "Help me get him out."

Martin stepped forward, reaching out as Tim carefully pulled Elias out from the backseat, taking Elias's arm and pulling him the rest of the way out. He held Elias up as Tim closed the car door. Then Tim took to Elias's other side and helped Martin prop him up.

Sasha pointed to Elias. "…his…head," she said. "It's, like…lolling."

"There's no way we're going to pull this off," Tim muttered and Martin shifted, reaching up with one of his hands to hold Elias's head up.

"That looks natural, right?" Martin asked, though, going by the pitch of his voice, he already knew the answer.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Sasha forced. "J-just hold him up so I can spray him." She pulled out the bottle of cologne and shook it before pointing it at Elias. "And maybe hold your breath and close your eyes."

Martin and Tim did just that as she sprayed Elias in the front, then in the back. She fanned her hands, not sure what else she could do to help.

"Wow, that's…that sure is…cologne," Martin said when he finally needed to breathe.

"It'll wear off through the night," Sasha said, coming back around to face them. "We should probably head in." Without waiting for them to respond, she spun and began to make her way to the front door.

Martin and Tim exchanged a look before bracing themselves and following after her.

* * *

As soon as they entered the mansion, the first they did was let out a breath of relief as the warm air from inside hit them. The second was to gawk at how gaudy it all was. The foyer was big enough to fit both their flats in. Everything gleamed gold or silver or pearl white. It was almost blinding. It was awful in its own special way; somehow communicating disgusting wealth as Evil Jonas's flat did, but in a completely different way.

Groups of avatars milled around, in and out of rooms on either side of the foyer, chatting. They held glasses with drinks and small plates with hors d'oeuvres.

The third thing Tim and Martin did, aside from nodding and muttering greetings to avatars as they walked through the foyer, hoping no one would notice the fact that Elias's feet were dragging, was to find a place to sit. A sofa or something large enough to fit all three of them so it wouldn't look _too_ suspicious, how close Martin and Tim were standing to Elias just to keep him upright.

Sasha followed in solidarity (taking a seat on the arm rest, next to Tim), though there wasn't much else she could do. Maybe help them deflect and cover but she was not keen on attending every meeting. Especially since it hadn't exactly been completely her choice to become an avatar in the first place. So they would have to learn how to handle themselves. _Hopefully_ , Elias wouldn't be so stoned he passed out next time. That would help, tremendously.

"Well, well, well," someone said, walking up to the four of them. He was wearing the business casual attire but his face and hands were smudged with what looked to be dirt. The smell of earth and fertilized dirt wafted off him. He held a martini glass.

" **The Buried** ," Sasha whispered to Martin and Tim before the avatar had fully approached them.

"Heard you've joined the avatar ranks," he said to Sasha. "Welcome. I'm—"

" **Gabe Hager,** " Sasha interrupted. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sasha."

Gabe's eyes narrowed but he kept his smile. "You Eye types sure like doing that, huh?"

Sasha merely smiled back at him.

"Well, congratulations," he said insincerely.

"Thanks," Sasha responded, just as insincere.

Tim cleared his throat quietly, to grab Sasha's attention as Gabe headed off. She turned to looked at him.

"You sure you want to be pissing off other avatars," Tim muttered.

"I'm sure they expect it," Sasha said. "Besides, it'll get them to leave us alone for now." Then she sighed. " **Incoming.** " It was all she had time to say before another avatar appeared before them, it almost seemed like out of thin air. He was a lot older than Gabe, probably at least ten years older than Elias, maybe more. His eyes were a striking sky blue and he gave off a frenzied sort of vibe.

"Well, if it isn't the head of the Magnus Institute himself!" he exclaimed.

Martin shifted, putting his arm around Elias's shoulders and trying to subtly shift Elias's head to make it look like he responded.

"Quiet as ever, that's very like you." He chuckled. Then his eyes flickered to Sasha. "Congrats, by the way! Welcome to the ranks. Of course, I prefer Vast avatars, but I _am_ a bit biased." Unlike Gabe, this man sounded wholly sincere.

"Thank you," Sasha said, nodding to him. Then she looked over at Martin and Tim. " **Simon Fairchild. The Vast.** "

They nodded before hesitantly looking over at him again, nodding and trying for small smiles in greeting.

"Oh, and you must work at the Magnus Institute as well?" Simon asked, as if he was just noticing them. "Here chaperoning him?" he joked, eyes flickering to Elias.

Martin and Tim both shrugged, chuckling uncomfortably, not sure how to respond to that.

"You boys need to lighten up," Simon said.

"First meetings can be scary," Sasha chimed in. "Just a little jittery, y'know, with nerves."

"Ah, yes, yes." Simon nodded. "Well the wet bar and food is in the room across from this one. You two should get something to help loosen those nerves, eh?"

"Sure, thanks," Martin said as Elias's head began to dip.

"We'll keep that in mind," Tim added, nodding, shifting and quickly readjusting Elias's head so it'd stay somewhat upright.

Simon either didn't notice or didn't care. "Well, pleasure to meet you all." With that he disappeared as fast as he had come.

"We didn't even tell him our names," Martin mumbled.

"We're not avatars," Tim said. "That's probably why." Martin couldn't tell if Tim was joking or not.

"Oh, there she is!" another voice exclaimed. A short, muscular East Asian woman approached them.

Sasha leaned toward Tim and Martin, " **Jude Perry. Desolation. Do** _ **not**_ "—she paused for effect—" **let her touch you. Ever.** " Sasha straightened up and faced Jude with a polite smile as Jude stopped.

"Congratulations on your new avatar status." Jude's smile had an edge to it as she held out her hand.

Sasha smiled back, with a similar edge, as she slid off the arm rest. "You know I won't fall for that."

Jude pulled her hand back and shrugged. "Worth a try." She looked over at Martin and Tim. "Would you boys like a try?" They both quickly shook their heads, causing Jude to laugh. "Well, anyway, I was sent to come fetch you, Sasha. There's cake. In your honor. I'm lighting the candles." She wiggled her fingers, smiling playfully with that same edge. Without waiting, she turned and headed to the other room.

"I'll be right back," Sasha said, looking back at Martin and Tim. And as much as they wanted to protest, they let her go because she wasn't their babysitter.

"Take your time," Tim said, feigning nonchalance. "We'll be here."

A moment of silence passed as Martin and Tim watched the other avatars mill about and chat.

"M-maybe we should venture over," Martin muttered, watching as some avatars filtered in and out with various drinks and plates of snacks. "We look too weird, just sitting here. We can't sit here all night."

"What, and drag Elias around?" Tim responded in the same quiet voice. "Because that wouldn't look suspicious, either. The way we have to hold on to him just to keep him standing."

"Well it's better than just sitting here, not talking," Martin rebutted.

"Hi, there!" a new voice greeted. A Black woman, dressed in vintage business casual attire, approached them. Her hair was bleach-blonde and short. Nearly half her skull had been caved in and white spider's thread crisscrossed the section. "You two are new. You don't… _look_ like avatars."

Martin and Tim struggled to pry their eyes away from her skull (more out of worry and concern than strangeness) and answer her.

"Y-y-yes," Martin managed, blinking and meeting the woman's eyes. "Our boss"—Martin playfully elbowed Elias's arm, being mindful not to jab him too hard and make him fall over—"extended his invitation. T-to see what it was…like. Y'know, that whole…avatar schtick."

"I'm Annabelle," she greeted. "I'm an avatar for the—"

"The Web!" Tim exclaimed, his eyes moving from her skull to meet her eyes.

Annabelle gave him an amused half-smile. "How'd you know?"

Tim shrugged and cleared his throat, his eyes flickering momentarily to the web in her skull. "Lucky guess."

Pretending like nothing was wrong, she brandished her plate, which held a slice of chocolate cake. "I'm surprised I didn't see your boss first in line for cake. He loves cake."

Tim shrugged and shifted in his seat. "Well, you know how uh-uh…how…he is." He cleared his throat. "Excuse us a moment?" He leaned back, moving Elias forward slightly. Martin leaned back, too, making sure not to completely knock Elias forward.

"What do they call him?" Tim hissed.

"What?" Martin hissed back.

"What do they call him? Elias or Jonah?"

"How would I know?"

They exchanged "I don't know" looks and shrugs before pulling back, simultaneously pushing Elias back as well. His head lolled, laying over the back of the sofa. Martin quickly adjusted him, trying to get his head into the right position again. He laughed nervously.

"He's had a long day," Martin said, looking at Annabelle as he continued to shift Elias.

Annabelle nodded in mock sympathy. "I can imagine. Well, it was lovely meeting you both. Better go get some cake before it's all gone, Elias." With that, she turned and left.

"She didn't ask for our names," Martin complained again as he and Tim watched her go.

"She called him 'Elias,' you think that's what he goes by, even though he's not?" Tim asked.

"…maybe?"

Tim turned to look over at Martin. "Why so unsure?"

"Well, she's the avatar of The Web, she could just be messing with us," Martin explained.

"Oh, shit, good point," Tim muttered.

"Look, I am going to go get us some food and drinks," Martin said suddenly.

" _What?_ And leave me all alone?" Tim asked, his voice slightly panicked.

"You'll be fine. I promise I won't be long." Martin didn't give him much of a choice because he stood and quickly bustled past Elias and Tim, making a B-line to the next room, nodding politely to the avatars he passed.

"Oh god," Tim muttered under his breath, looking around at all the other avatars. They were still milling around, having conversations with each other and paying him or Elias no mind. That would, surely, not last.

With a sigh, another woman sat down next to Elias, a wine glass in one hand. Tim stiffened and quickly turned to look at her.

"Th-that seat's taken," he stuttered.

"Yes, by me," the avatar replied with a grin, turning to face him, putting her elbow up on the back of the sofa and resting her head against her closed fist. "Nice to see you again, Elias," she said. Tim shifted, too, trying to subtly shift Elias so it looked like he was acknowledging her with a nod.

The woman's eyes flickered up to Tim, who let out a breath of relief that his shifting had worked, somehow.

"And who is this handsome friend you brought with you?" she asked.

"Tim," Tim introduced. "And I'm…not his friend. He's just my boss."

The woman raised an eyebrow before putting her glass down on the coffee table and holding out her now free hand. "Manuela. Nice to meet you."

Tim swallowed hard, staring at her hand. Was she an avatar for The Desolation? _Where the fuck were Sasha and Martin?_

With a nervous smile Tim reached up to take her hand, trying not to visibly sigh when her hand didn't hurt his as they shook.

"Nice to meet you, too," Tim managed.

Manuela reached over and straightened one of Elias's lapels that had, at some point during the evening, gotten messed up.

"Not like him to be this unkempt," she commented. Before Tim could even blink, Manuela snatched the glasses off Elias's face. Tim sucked in a breath and automatically reached for the glasses but held back, not wanting to look too suspicious at his sudden panic.

Manuela, meanwhile, examined the glasses, unaware of Elias's closed eyes or Tim's anxiousness.

"Oh my, these aren't his usual designer." Manuela looked over at Tim, who's heart stopped as he prayed she didn't look at Elias. "Did he lose a bet or something? Had to come to an avatar meeting with a rubbish pair like these?" She let the glasses hang from her finger.

Tim forced a laugh, quickly grabbing them back and putting them back onto Elias's face, hoping beyond hope she hadn't noticed his closed eyes. He said, "He did, actually. Uh…h-he thought Sasha wouldn't get invited to celebrate her new avatar status. You know how he can be."

Manuela nodded in sympathy (real sympathy this time). "I do." She glanced at Elias, elbowing him. Tim jumped and tried to adjust Elias so he wouldn't fall into Tim's lap but make it look like that's not what he was doing.

"What's wrong with him?" Manuela looked at Elias, then said in an overly loud voice, "No comment, Elias?"

Tim, afraid she might figure out he was actually asleep, and actually not Jonah at all, put his arm around Elias, trying to shift both of them slightly away from her as he said, "As we told Annabelle, Elias has had a bit of a rough week."

Manuela raised her eyebrow, gracefully sitting back, "We?"

"Yes, Martin and I," Tim answered, bringing his arm back to his person and shifting again so Elias wouldn't just slump over.

Manuela waited for him to elaborate and when he didn't she asked, "Boyfriend? Partner?"

"Coworker," Tim said in the same tone she had spoken. "Friend."

Her eyes narrowed. "What was it you said you did, again?"

"I didn't."

She waited.

"I work at the Institute."

Manuela leaned forward, eyes flashing with intrigue. "Oh, but you're not…the _Archivist_ , are you?" she asked. Tim looked around confused as he heard suspenseful music and saw the lights flicker when she had said, "archivist."

"Did you see that?" he muttered, looking back at Manuela.

"Oh, sorry. I mean, you're not the Head Archivist, are you?"

Time looked around again, waiting for the eerie music and the flickering lights, but nothing happened.

Still glancing around, he finally said, "…no. We're just archival assistants." He finally looked back at Manuela. "And thank god for that."

"There are no gods here, love," Manuela said with a wink and a smile.

"Okay."

"So you do work in the archives, though?"

Tim nodded. She shifted in her seat, getting more comfortable and began regaling him with stories about being a Dark avatar while Tim silently wondered where Martin and Sasha were. (Again.) And if they were going to come back any time soon or if he'd have to make up and excuse and drag Elias's unconscious body to the next room.

Meanwhile, this was what was taking Martin and Sasha so long:

"You know, I'm a bit disappointed our dear Archivist"—Martin and Sasha looked around as they heard horror music, and the lights flickered—"isn't here," the mannequin dressed in a circus's ring leader outfit said to them. Sasha had told Martin her name was Nikola Orsinov and that she was an avatar of The Stranger. Unfortunately, Nikola had stopped Sasha before she could leave and go back to Martin, Tim, and Elias. Then, when Martin had come in and seen Sasha, he'd gotten stuck, too.

"By the way, _Miss Sasha_ ," Nikola added, "have you happened to see one of mine in your archives?"

Sasha smiled without humor. "Don't worry about it."

Nikola laughed, sending shivers up and down Martin's spine. He glanced at the door to the exit, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation without angering Nikola, lest he woke up tomorrow without his skin or something.

Back in the other room, Manuela (who'd picked up her wine glass again) was telling Tim about the time she'd trapped someone in their dresser during a thunderstorm. It was a big, ornate thing, much like the one in _The Chronicles of Narnia_.

"Now, this particular person happened to fear the dark _and_ thunderstorms, so it was quite a win for me—"

Just then, Elias let out a giant snore, for Tim had been so busy trying to be polite and think of a way out of the room, Elias's head had lolled back. Manuela had been so caught up in recounting her victims to notice or really care.

That was until he'd snored.

Manuela shot up and gasped, glaring at Elias (who still soundly slept). The grip around the stem of her glass tightened and Tim could see what was going to happen but was still coming out of his brain fog, so didn't move fast enough.

"I've always wanted to do this," she growled before throwing her drink on Elias. She had incredible aim, not getting a drop on Tim.

Elias gasped and his head shot up.

"You've always been a pompous arsehole, Jonah!" Manuela said before storming off.

Tim quickly grasped Elias's arm to keep him sitting as Elias reached up to wipe the drink off his face.

"I was just s…I was just sitting here," Elias complained. "Taking a nap—"

"Uhhhh, uhhh, come on, boss!" Tim exclaimed to cover up the last part of Elias's sentence, for Manuela's scene had drawn attention from the other avatars in the room. "Why don't we get you cleaned up." Tim said loudly, pulling Elias up to his feet and dragging him to the exit. As they were heading out, they nearly crashed into Martin and Sasha, who'd been heading in.

"Why am I wearing sunglasses indoors?" Elias asked, just now noticing them, and reaching up to take them off.

Without looking away from Sasha and Martin, Tim shoved the sunglasses back on Elias's face—getting a yelp from Elias—and asked Sasha, "Where's the lavatory?"

"Follow me," Sasha said.

"He's awake now?" Martin hissed as they followed Sasha.

"Some avatar named Manuela threw a drink on him," Tim muttered back. "She thought he was being rude. What took you guys so long?"

"We were waylaid by a mannequin," Martin replied.

Tim's grip on Elias's arm tightened but he didn't say anything. Martin didn't fail to notice but now wasn't the time to ask.

Once they'd gotten to the restroom, they all entered, Sasha closing and locking the door behind them.

"Hey, are we at the _Avatar the Last Airbender_ party thing?" Elias asked.

All three of them exhaled sharply and glared at him.

" _Yes,_ " Martin finally said. He grabbed the glasses off Elias's face, revealing his bloodshot eyes. "And you got so stoned, you passed out!"

Elias gave him a hang-loose sign and grinned. "I'm still stoned, dude."

Martin threw up his arms and groaned, turning away from Elias.

"There's nothing we can do now," Sasha said. "We can leave soon. Let's just get him cleaned up as best we can and get through the rest of the night. We can scold him when he's not high."

Martin sighed. "Looks like she was drinking white wine, so at least it'll be less noticeable."

"This _better_ not happen every month," Tim muttered, reaching to grab a folded towel and getting half of it wet, ringing it out, then wiping away the drink all over Elias's face. Martin silently rinsed off the sunglasses and dried them. Tim moved to Elias's shirt and jacket, patting it down, trying to soak up the left over drink. They hadn't brought any spare clothes, so Elias would just have to wear damp clothes that smelled liked alcohol for a little while.

* * *

When Tim was finished drying Elias, he threw the towel into a bin marked for dirty towels and sighed.

"Think you can keep quiet for the rest of the night?" he asked Elias.

Elias grinned, oblivious as ever, and gave Tim a thumbs-up.

"You'll have to wear these, still," Martin said, slipping the clean sunglasses onto Elias's face. "Your eyes are still bloodshot."

"This is exhausting," Sasha said, turning to unlock the door. "I don't envy you guys."

As they were exiting the restroom, one of the avatars passed by them with a piece of cake. Elias perked up and gasped.

"No one told me there was cake!" he exclaimed.

Both Tim and Martin quickly grabbed Elias's arms and held him back as he tried to dart forward.

"Hold on, we'll take you to get some cake, but _remember_ "—Martin held up a finger to his lips—"keep quiet."

Elias mouthed "oh" and nodded, making the motion of zipping his lips. Martin and Tim exchanged a look before taking back into the room with the bar and food. At least they didn't have to drag him around anymore. Though, whether him being conscious was better or worse for them remained to be seen.

Surprisingly, and to the three's relief, Elias chowing down on cake had been the easiest part of the night. They stood off to the side of the room, huddled together, hoping no one would come up and talk to them. There was the occasional acknowledgement of Elias and sometimes an avatar would pass by and congratulate Sasha again but, blessedly, didn't converse.

That was until an avatar that, to Elias's weed-addled mind, looked strikingly like Gregory caught Elias’s attention.

Having absolutely no filter, Elias pointed to him, fork still in hand, crumbs falling of it, and shouted, "He's here for revenging, that's why!"

Tim quickly slapped Elias's hand down as the avatars in the room turned to look at them.

Martin forced a laughed. "Oh, Tim, I think someone's had a little too much to drink." He began shoving Elias, motioning toward the door. "It's probably time for you to turn in."

Following Martin's lead, they shuffled out, Martin trying to get Elias to stop staring and pointing at the avatar that looked like Gregory. They didn't stop as they went through the foyer, smiling politely at the avatars as they passed, and made their way to the front door. Elias finally gave up and finished eating his cake as they ushered him outside.

The blast of cold air that hit them almost made them turn back around but they figured being warm in their own flats was better than being warm in a giant mansion full of avatars that represented every human fear.

* * *

"Goodnight, guys," Sasha said wearily as they got to Martin's car.

"'Night," Martin said.

"'Night, Sash," Tim replied.

She headed off to her car as Tim, Martin, and Elias got into Martin's car.

"Well, at least we can roll up the windows now," Martin said as he started his car.

Tim sighed and sunk back into his seat. "Thanks for trying, but I'm not in the mood."

Martin sighed in response. "You're right. Tonight was a bit of a disaster." He pulled out of his spot and hit the gas so hard and fast his tires squealed. Tim quickly reached for the Jesus bar and straightened up in his seat.

Half-way back to London, proper Elias sighed.

"Are you guys mad at me?" he asked in a small voice.

Tim and Martin exchanged a look, not expecting that.

"Well…" Martin started, trying to ease into it.

Tim was more blunt and forthcoming, "Yeah."

"The night didn't go great," Martin said in a softer tone. "We certainly weren't expecting you to get stoned before. Or pass out."

Elias sighed again. "I'm sorry. I just got nervous. It was just too much. I don't like this Evil Jonas dude. I don't like having to be him. It's stressful. And scary. We're running away from monsters every other day. And now I have to _be_ one in a room full of them?"

"Look," Tim started. Martin threw him a look but said nothing. "We didn't ask for this, either. Sometimes we have to…just suck it up."

"No, you're right," Elias said. He sunk further into his seat, looking morosely out the windshield. "I…I just miss my friends, y'know? They're still alive but I can't go see them because I don't want to put their lives in danger. And I don't like feeling like _my_ life is constantly in danger. But…I guess neither do you guys." Elias paused. "I'm sorry for getting stoned before this important thing. Pretending at that Jonas Brothers Institute is so much easier and I was afraid of fucking this meeting up. Even though I ended up kind of doing that anyway. I really let you guys down. But I promise to try better next time."

Martin and Tim exchanged another look but were unsure how to respond to that…so they continued the drive in a melancholic silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lakjlkjd jk this is actually a bit of three-parter. the resolution, of sorts, to this will come in the next chapter. that's my bad.
> 
> again, feelin' a bit Weird in this chili's tonight, so i hope the comedy comes across. i haven't watched _weekend at bernie's_ in so long so,,, i went off pure memory lmao
> 
> oh and the "here's here for revenging" is a line from _futurama_. it always makes me laugh so, of course, i had to find a way to insert into this.
> 
>  **Reminder:** I am part of the TMA Big Bang, so more of my time will be devoted to that fic, but I will still work on this fic intermittently. Updates will just slow down for a bit.
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/629530385867538432/chapter-15-no-comment)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciate! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


	16. Tea for Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Tim and Martin exchange looks, it gets faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Note:** Another appearance from Daisy and Basira. Again, lmk if you think I should include/you'd like a brief summary of the scene at the end!

As if the night couldn't get any weirder, as they were entering London, proper, Elias said, "You guys can totally crash at my place, if you want."

Tim and Martin exchanged a brief look, confused and surprised.

"I have a ton of space and it's just me staying there, so I really don't mind the company," Elias continued when they said nothing.

It did occur to both Tim and Martin that he'd said that to guilt them into saying yes, but…he wasn't Jonah. In fact, Elias was as far from Jonah as anyone could get. When Elias said things, he meant it wholly and sincerely, without question.

And even though they'd had that party at his place, staying over still felt weird. Even though they knew better, Elias was, for all intents and purposes, still their boss.

"You could think of it as part of my apology," Elias added. "And, honestly, I've been meaning to tell you guys, my home is your home. I've already informed Logan you guys are free to drop by and hang out, even if I'm not there."

Martin hesitated before sighing. "Let me stop by my flat to grab an overnight bag."

Tim looked at him like he was crazy.

Martin shrugged. "His place is _nice_. I'm sure his beds are even nicer. We deserve to be spoilt after the night we've had."

Tim sat back, contemplating before he rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "We need to stop by my flat, too," he muttered.

Elias perked up like the golden retriever he was and grinned. "Awesome! Sleepover!"

* * *

Despite what Elias had exclaimed in the car, as soon as they got in, he headed straight to bed (well, not _straight_ to bed, but you get the sentiment). But not before a quick, "Make yourselves at home! Everything is fair game. If you want a midnight snack, you know where the kitchen is. Don't eat the brownies, though. Unless you feel like getting high, then go for it! Pick any bedroom you want. 'Night!"

Tim and Martin barely had time to mumble "goodnight" back before Elias had bounded down the hall on the ground floor to one of the bedrooms.

They exchanged a look once again before slipping their shoes off and slipping into their guest slippers.

"This was a mistake," Tim muttered as they made their way down the hall, glancing at all the stickers on the walls.

"Wait until you lie down in bed. I'm sure you'll change your mind," Martin said, shrugging. "Think I'll shower first," he mumbled. "Just knowing Elias had a drink thrown on him makes me feel sticky."

Tim made a noise of agreement as they got to the end of the hall. There were three bedrooms. One of the doors was already closed so that left the other two.

"…see you in the morning, then," Martin said awkwardly.

"Yeah. 'Night." Tim nodded, just as awkward.

They headed into their respective rooms and shut the doors…only to emerge a few minutes later, converging in the hall.

"Do you know how the shower works?" they asked at the same time before making a face.

Tim shook his head. "I'm too tired for this shit."

"Why don't we tag-team," Martin suggested. "I'll help you figure out how your shower works, then you can help me with mine."

Tim nodded and they headed into his bedroom.

* * *

By the time Martin had showered, he could barely keep his eyes open. The bed was king-sized and he couldn't _wait_ see how soft it would feel. It was like staying at a five-star hotel in the penthouse but _better_. What could he say, he liked decadence every now and again.

Out of habit, after crawling into bed—it was everything he'd dreamed of—and getting comfortable, hugging a pillow to his chest, he checked his phone one last time. He was surprised to see a message from Jon. And not in the group chat.

 _That_ certainly woke him up a little.

His heart pounding, hands shaking, he opened up his phone and clicked on his messenger app.

Jon

> howd it go?

Martin spent way too long thinking and then even longer constructing the reply. He kept typing in something and then backspacing. Type. Then backspace. Type. Then backspace.

It really shouldn't have been this hard. _Why was this so hard for him?_

Would Jon even be awake at this hour?

Martin's thumb hovered over the send button, afraid the notification noise might wake Jon up. He chewed the inside of his lip. Even so, what if Jon was waiting for a reply? Holding his breath, he pressed send and quickly pressed his phone into the pillow.

Martin

> not great. elias passed out halfway there. but we managed to make it thru the nite unscathed. just abt to sleep now

Jon was probably asleep. And Martin hoped the text alert noise hadn't woken him. Martin nearly jumped out of his skin—ha! Get it?—when his phone buzzed. He quickly pulled it back from the pillow to see another message from Jon.

Jon

> i'm sorry ☹️ glad to hear youre home safe

Martin

> hopefully we wont have a repeat of that next month

Jon

> hope so too. im not envious of you  
> well, goodnight Martin

Martin

> yea goodnight Jon

Martin stared at his phone until long after the screen went dark, until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

* * *

And while the beds were like sleeping on the softest, warmest cloud (don't mind that clouds are just water, so are _not_ , in fact, soft _or_ warm), Tim and Martin were startled awake in the wee hours of the morning by cries.

They both burst from their rooms at the same time, looking to each other with wide but unfocused eyes and bedhead.

"Elias?" Martin asked.

"God I hope so," Tim said as they made their way to Elias's bedroom. His door was wide open but when they heard him cry out again, it didn't come from the room. It sounded muffled.

"Upstairs?" Tim asked.

"I think so," Martin replied.

They started to head toward the hall but Martin stopped and grabbed Tim's arm to stop him, too. Now that he was more awake, his thoughts were clearer.

"Maybe we should take some kind of weapon?" Martin asked in a low voice.

Tim thought a moment. "The lamps on the bedside tables. They looked pretty sturdy."

Martin nodded and they quickly headed back to grab a lamp from their respective rooms, before sneaking down the hall and up the stairs to the first floor. Elias hadn't cried out since and they hoped that didn't mean anything bad.

When they were half-way down the hall they heard movement from one of the sofas in the sitting room and froze. Waiting. Listening. Trying to see in the darkness.

"Guys?" Elias asked.

Tim and Martin exchanged a look.

Elias reached over and turned on a lamp. They all blinked and squinted as light flooded the room. Tim and Martin lowered their lamps as they waited for their eyes to adjust. Once they had, they could clearly see Elias lying on the right sofa in the sitting room, with a throw blanket over him and the pillows stacked behind him.

"Why are you sleeping up here?" Tim asked as he and Martin ventured closer, still clutching their lamps.

"Is everything okay?" Martin asked. "We heard you…uhm, well we heard you screaming."

Elias smiled at them, too chipper for having just woken up. And woken up from a bad dream, too. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream. Sorry to scare you guys like that. Oh, and sometimes I just need a change of scenery. These sofas are _super_ comfy."

Tim and Martin looked at each other (they were doing that a lot tonight), not convinced.

"You guys should go back to sleep," Elias said. "I've already caused you enough stress tonight."

"Sure," Martin said, hesitatingly.

"Okay." Tim shrugged and began heading back down the hall. Martin followed after one last glance at Elias. They heard the lamp click off half-way down the stairs.

"That was weird," Martin muttered.

"Too tired," Tim responded. Martin rolled his eyes but said no more.

* * *

"You guys are uncharacteristically late," Sasha commented as Tim and Martin entered the archives. She looked up from her computer where she'd been playing an online video game (instead of doing work).

Tim snorted. "Just don't tell—" he began.

"Jon?" Jon interrupted from where he sat, cup of tea in hand, crutches resting against the desk closest to him.

Tim blinked, surprised, though he wasn't quite sure why. He looked back at Sasha who rested her chin in her hand and gave Tim a lazy smile.

"You're not…mad?" Tim asked. "Jonathan Straight-Lace Sims isn't mad we're late to work?"

Jon rolled his eyes and set his tea down on the desk. "I wish you wouldn't call me that. I can be _cool_." Tim and Sasha snickered at that and Jon shifted in his chair, his face slowly growing hot. "You all had a long night, I'm sure. I'm giving you leeway. As a good boss should."

Tim shrugged and held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, you're a good boss. There, I said it. Happy now?"

"I'm never happy," Jon replied without missing a beat as he picked his teacup back up, then lifted his teacup to his lips and took a sip. Everyone froze and looked at him, concerned, but amusement twinkled in his eyes. They all relaxed and let out uneasy chuckles because the moment to laugh had passed but, yeah, what he'd said was still funny.

Tim and Martin began to make their way to their desks.

Jon cleared his throat. "Uhm, Martin, I…made you some tea." Jon gestured to the extra teacup sitting on the desk next to him. "I figured you could use a little pick-me-up after a long night. U-unless you've had tea already. I-I mean, that would make sense, that you'd make tea in the mornings—"

"Oh! Uh, thank you, Jon," Martin interrupted, one hand on the back of his chair, about to sit down. Jon threw him a grateful look, hating that he'd let himself ramble like that. Martin continued, "I didn't actually get the chance to have any tea this morning." He pushed his chair back into the desk and made his way to where Jon sat, pulling up a chair and setting his bag down at his feet before taking his tea and smiling at Jon. "Thanks."

Jon nodded. "Of course." He smiled softly as Martin took a sip before reaching for his own tea.

Tim slid his chair over, next to Sasha as they both watched Jon and Martin converse.

"No tea for us, then?" Tim asked quietly.

"Of course not," Sasha said, winking as she pushed a mug over to him. "I made it. I hope it's still special."

Tim gave her a half-smile. "Anything is special when it's from you."

"Aw, you're so sweet," she said, picking up her own mug and taking a sip.

Meanwhile…

"You stayed at his flat?" Jon asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Martin shrugged and nodded. "He offered and, honestly, best sleep I've had in a while. Those beds are _magic_. We had posh waffles this morning."

Jon chuckled. "Hopefully Elias didn't burn any closets down making them."

"Sounds like something he'd do." Martin snorted. "No, actually, I guess what would be more correct is: his personal chef made us waffles."

"Oh, so when you say 'posh'?"

"Hand-whipped whipped cream, a spread of thinly sliced fresh fruits, jam and jelly—"

"Which are two different things," Martin and Jon said simultaneously.

Jon's face began to grow warm again. "Oh, you…you were listening."

"Of course, always," Martin responded before continuing on the topic of posh waffles, not realizing what effect his words had on Jon, who was only able to tune in near the tail end because his heart was beating so fast in his chest he had a hard time concentrating.

"S-sorry, I…I-I, uhm, seem to have missed that last part," Jon stuttered, feeling bad for his lapse in attention.

"Hmm? Oh, well, she'd also made something similar to Nutella; there was also yoghurt, and powdered sugar. I felt quite spoiled. It was lovely."

Tim and Sasha continued to watch Jon and Martin converse, sipping at their tea, like it was their favorite soap opera.

"They sure do have it hard for each other, huh?" Tim asked.

"See, not hopeless," Sasha said.

Tim scoffed. "If they were more aware of how comfortable they felt right now, they would immediately become _uncomfortable_. I wouldn't exactly call that hopeful."

"Baby steps," Sasha whispered before taking another sip of her tea.

* * *

"I don't like him, Basira," Daisy said as they exited Scotland Yard for the night and made their way to the car. "I don't _ever_ want to deliver a tape for you again. Do that on your own damn time."

"Okay, okay, I can do that," Basira conceded quickly. "What's gotten you so riled up?"

Daisy huffed and looked away. "Nothing. I've _told_ you, I don't like Jon." She stopped there and Basira opened her mouth to say something but Daisy burst, "I don't see why you even need to keep feeding him tapes now that we know he couldn't have killed Gertrude. Why humor him any more than necessary?"

Basira shrugged, her eyebrows furrowing. They stopped at the car, on opposite sides and looked at each other over the top. "He seems alright."

They got inside and as Basira started the car, Daisy asked, "Have you ever questions _why_ you feel that way, though?"

"Why would I?" Basira asked slowly. "Did something happen when you were there?"

Daisy looked away. "No."

Basira knew that tone all too well. The "yes, but I am not, under any circumstances, going to talk about it" tone. She'd drop it for now but the way Daisy was acting was also indicative of something else. Basira would have to keep a close eye on her.

* * *

"Uhm, excuse me," Jon called, in a slightly joking tone, to a woman as she entered the archives with a black lab at her side. "No dogs allowed in the archives." Jon stopped at the threshold, where the hallway from the stairs opened up into the archives, proper. He had a file tucked under his arm.

The woman scoffed as she came to a stop a few feet from Jon.

"Can't you read?" she asked in the same joking tone. "He has a vest and everything." She reached forward with her red-and-white cane to whack Jon's leg but hit his crutch instead. "Oh, bugger, I keep forgetting you're sporting crutches now." She made a face as she kept gently tapping her cane against Jon's crutch, slowly moving it upward as she did. "Keep talking, I need to judge where your arm is."

Jon chuckled but indulged her. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm still getting used to my crutches, too."

He finished just as her cane finally hit something softer. She was careful to find his forearm before very gently and playfully smacking her cane against it.

"You think you're such a comedian, don't you?" she asked as he lowered her cane.

Jon grinned. "I'm hilarious. Just ask any of my coworkers." The woman snorted and rolled her eyes. Jon continued, "It's good to see you again, Mel. So, what brings you to the archives?" His tone turned to mock scolding, "Hopefully not to make another statement."

Melanie mock laughed but it had an edge to it. "Oh, you should quit your job here and go do stand-up."

"If only," Jon muttered looking away, not quite joking anymore. He sighed and straightened up before asking, "Now, what was it you came here for?"

"Yes, well, I wanted access to your library but I need someone to vouch for me," Melanie explained. "Since you're the only friend I have who works here, I was hoping you…y'know, could be that person. To vouch for me."

"Oh, of course," Jon said. "I can speak with Diana about it before I leave work today."

"Thank you, I…appreciate it," Melanie said.

"May I ask what you're looking for in the library?"

Melanie made a face at that.

"Why don't we go back to my office," Jon suggested. "O-only if you want to talk about it, of course."

"I've got a few minutes," Melanie said.

"Where's Georgie?" Jon asked as they headed in the direction of Jon's office.

"Waiting for me in the car," Melanie answered.

"Ah." Jon nodded. "Tell her I said 'hi.'"

"Will do."

Jon ignored Sasha, Tim, and Martin as he made his way past their desks and to his office with Melanie. They looked on with disguised interest, trying not to be too obvious with their staring or exchanged looks, but Jon thought they didn't do a very good job.

Once Jon and Melanie had settled into their seats—Kingsley, the black lab, dutifully sitting at Melanie's side—Melanie sighed and said, "Ghost Hunt UK split up. I mean, not formally, but…well, you know, Pete was always a flake to begin with, and the others just drifted away…"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear," Jon said. "I…noticed you weren't updating anymore."

"I _tried_ to get a new crew together—Georgie even offered to help—but I didn't want to drag her into this more than she already was. I managed to find one person, an eager greenleaf named Lila, new to the paranormal, who agreed to hold the camera. We went out on expeditions a few times but she was so new to everything, we didn't get enough usable footage. We encountered a few weird things…then I—well I got arrested."

"…I see," Jon said.

Melanie exhaled sharply. "We broke into the train graveyard up near Rotherham. Got picked up by his security, and I—let's just say I wasn't doing well. When Lila and I were being thrown out, some late-night dog walker got a video of me screaming at them about ghosts." Melanie laughed bitterly. "When it went online…"

"Your reputation went with it," Jon guessed.

"Yes. And Lila quit on me." Melanie shifted in her seat. "I have leads that I wanted to follow up on, but as far as my colleagues are concerned, these days, I'm the ghost."

"I'm sorry, Mel," Jon said. "I understand the feeling of not being respected by your peers."

"Yeah." Melanie mumbled, then in a stronger voice, "Well, thanks for this, Jon," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Of course."

As Melanie stood, Jon grabbed his crutches.

"I can walk you out," he said as he stood.

"Jon, this is going to sound weird," Melanie began as they exited his office, "but when I was speaking with Diana about gaining access to the library I could've sworn I heard…a horse? Walking around? I think I even got a whiff of what stables usually smell like."

Tim, Sasha, and Martin followed them again as they made their way through the common workspace. This time they weren't subtle at all and Jon silently gave them warning looks. They had enough shame to look down at whatever work they'd been pretending to do but immediately looked back up when Jon and Melanie's backs were to them.

"Right, well," Jon said, "let Rosie—the woman at the front desk—know when and where this happened. Note the exact time, if you can."

Melanie paused.

"Oh, right, sorry," Jon mumbled, his face heating up. "I've gotten so used to saying it to visitors, it just sort of…came out. You can just tell her it was around this afternoon."

"Will do, but…" Melanie chuckled a little uneasily. "You've got a horse loose in the Institute, or something? I mean, I know we deal with the paranormal, but that's a little out there, don't you think?"

"Well, you're certain you heard and smelled a horse?" Jon asked in response.

Melanie frowned. "Yes. I don't doubt my senses. That means you _really_ do have a horse loose in this place? Why haven't you called animal control?"

"…it's not exactly normal," Jon said, hoping Melanie wouldn't ask too much about it. He briefly wondered if Georgie had told Melanie about her encounter with The End. And, therefore, was unsure how much he could tell Melanie about all this fear entity business.

"The horse, I mean," Jon continued. "It's uhm…well there's a Greek myth about a horse as fast as the wind, Arion. This horse is a lot like that. I-if you can believe in ghosts, surely you can believe something like that exists, right?"

"…I suppose," Melanie conceded. "It is still a bit weird. A horse of all things? In the Institute." Her tone turned joking, "I mean, it's really no wonder no one takes you guys seriously."

Jon chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Careful, I'll revoke your library privileges."

"No, we're too good of friends for that," Melanie said, grinning.

"Don't be so sure," Jon said, mischievously.

"Oh, I'm wounded," Melanie responded in an exaggerated tone before hitting her cane against one of Jon's crutches. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, annoyed.

Jon snickered.

* * *

"Hi, again, Ms. Baldwin," Rosie greeted with her costumer service smile, hands folded placidly in front of her.

Sarah froze, her hand half-way to the electrical box outside the Institute, a cigarette in her other hand. She'd already gone through three, just standing there. Their butts laid on the ground at her feet, still smoldering.

"This is private property," Rosie continued. "Unless you're here to use the library or make a statement, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Sarah eyed Rosie, hand still aloft. She could probably take the receptionist. She still had a few more minutes until Nikola had instructed her to cut the lights.

"I wouldn't," Rosie said, inclining her head, the smile never leaving her.

Sarah started at this. She couldn't read minds, could she? Maybe that shouldn't have been so shocking, coming from someone who worked for the Magnus Institute, but Nikola hadn't informed Sarah their receptionist of all people would have any Eye-given powers. Or that she would be this unnerving.

Being an avatar of The Stranger, not a lot unnerved Sarah.

Rosie, unfathomably, did.

"So, are you here to use the library or make a statement?" Rosie asked when Sarah hadn't answered.

Slowly, Sarah lowered her hand and shook her head.

"Right," Rosie sighed. "Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises. Or I will call security."

Without a word, Sarah dropped her cigarette and stamped it out before turning and leaving. Rosie waited and watched until she was off what was Institute Property before turning back to the still smoldering cigarette butts. Sighing, she went over to them and stamped them out, then briskly headed back inside. There was someone else she needed to greet.

* * *

"I'm afraid Jon is busy at the moment, Ms. Orsinov," Rosie said as Nikola climbed out of the trap door that led into the tunnels. She looked around, confused. "If you're wondering why the lights are still on it's because I sent Ms. Baldwin on her way before she could sabotage the Institute's electricity. I'm sure you understand. It's such a hassle to get an electrician over in a timely manner."

Nikola fully exited, letting the trap door slam closed and faced Rosie.

"Busy?" Nikola asked, ignoring Rosie's other comments.

"If you'd like to a word with him, you can certainly make an appointment," Rosie answered.

Nikola stepped toward Rosie, who didn't flinch.

"Please don't," Rosie said, pressing the button of something small in her hand. Nikola couldn't see what it was though, it was small enough to be completely concealed in the palm of Rosie's hand.

Institute security appeared among the stacks not a moment later, blocking off all exits except for the trap door.

Rosie finished, "I would hate to make a scene."

"And what if I was here to speak with Elias?" Nikola asked, shifting. The security team shifted in response.

"Then I would still ask you to make an appointment," Rosie said easily. "He's a very busy man, you see."

Nikola laughed. "I imagine so. Fine, fine. I'll see myself out." She spun back to the trap door, lifting it easily and jumping down. Rosie walked forward and looked down to make sure she had gone before closing the trap door up again and securing the padlock.

She turned back to the security team. "Thank you, you may return to your stations now." They nodded and headed off as Rosie began to make her way back to her own station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo I have been waiting so long to write Melanie coming to the archives to ask for library permissions since like I started this fic. At last, tis finally here!
> 
> For some reason, I decided that Melanie and Jon were really good friends because they both know Georgie. Reading back through the transcript for this chapter though, I'm realizing that's not the case at all lmao. Anyway, since my main thesis in all of my TMA fic is basically "let Jon have friends," I decided to make it my canon, for this story.
> 
> Also, if you couldn't tell, since we've already gone way off script, I just decided to have Melanie be blind because more disabled characters! Also, also, she and Georgie are already dating <3 because wtgfs, amirite? Also, also, also, had to change some things around in canon regarding Melanie's arrest. I didn't want to completely take away her agency while also being aware of certain limitations being blind has. I hope I did okay. But feel free to lmk if there's a better way to depict it.
> 
> Yes, she does still give Jon a statement per MAG28 Skintight, just,,, imagine it going a little differently. idk how, exactly, but she does still have an Encounter and subsequently gives a statement. And yes, since I've already moved the timeline around a lot, Georgie has already told Jon about her encounter with The End avatar.
> 
> Lastly, guarantee, Word of God, her dog will always be okay. I haven't quite planned it out, but I would like to feature her and Georgie more. If that happens, blanket statement here and now: Kingsley lives. I know this is a crack, everybody lives fic, but just in case anyone was worried, I'm stating it for you right now.
> 
> Uhhh, bit of a double-whammy but I've hit another point in the story where I have to plan out more specific story beats. It shouldn't affect the slowness of updates lmao. But just so y'all know what I'm up to: working on the TMABB and planning out the next few story beats, so things'll still be slow on my end as far as updating goes. Thanks for being patient with me!
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://awayofunderstandingit.tumblr.com/post/630799059302645760/chapter-16-tea-for-us)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are appreciated! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


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